V. 


& 


\ 


D 


BIRDS  IN  LITERATURE 


Do  you  ne'er  think  what  wondrous  beings  these? 

Do  you  ne'er  think  who  made  them,  and  who  taught 
The  dialect  they  speak,  where  melodies 

Alone  are  the  interpreters  of  thought? 
Whose  household  words  are  songs  in  many  keys, 

Sweeter  than  instrument  of  man  e'er  caught! 
Whose  habitations  in  the  tree-tops  even 

Are  half-way  houses  on  the  road  to  heaven ! 

Think  every  morning  when  the  sun  peeps  through 

The  dim,  leaf-latticed  windows  of  the  grove, 
How  jubilant  the  happy  birds  renew 

Their  old,  melodious  madrigals  of  love ! 
And  when  you  think  of  this,  remember  too 

'Tis  always  morning  somewhere,  and  above 
The  awakening  continents,  from  shore  to  shore, 

Somewhere  the  birds  are  singing  evermore. 

LONGFELLOW.     "  Birds  of  Killingworth." 


BIRDS  IN  LITERATURE 


BY 

ABBY  P.  CHURCHILL 

STATE  NORMAL  SCHOOL 
FITCHBURG,  MASS. 


WORCESTER,  MASS. 

THE  DAVIS  PRESS,  INC. 

PRINTERS  AND  PUBLISHERS 

1911 


COPYRIGHT,  1905 
By  ABBY  P.  CHURCHILL 

COPYRIGHT,  1911 
By  THE  DAVIS  PRESS,  INC. 


SECOND  EDITION 


Introduction 


(E  see  with  what  we  are;  and  what  we  see  is  con- 
stantly changing  us  for  better  or  for  worse.  If  we 
look  for  ugliness,  we  see  ugliness,  and  our  spiritual  growth 
is  abnormal  and  deformed.  If  we  look  for  beauty,  the 
beautiful  meets  us  everywhere  and  transforms  our  minds 
and  hearts. 

The  past  decade  has  witnessed  an  almost  unparal- 
leled turning  of  men  to  Nature,  seeking  refreshment  and 
renewal  through  her  beauty  and  her  mystery.  Men  have 
not  always  looked  at  Nature  in  this  way,  nor  do  all  to- 
day. To  primitive  man  she  brought  fear  and  awe  and 
wonder.  Many  centuries  must  pass  before  a  Words- 
worth could  declare  "that  Nature  never  did  betray  the 
heart  that  loved  her."  And  yet  from  the  very  beginning 
men  must  have  thought  of  the  birds — particularly  of 
those  whose  migrations  were  the  most  striking,  and  of  the 
eagle  and  others  that  seemed  in  their  soaring  to  touch  the 
very  heavens — as  allied  with  clouds  and  winds  and  stars 
very  closely  to  the  mysterious  unseen  and  unknown.  So 
in  the  earliest  attempts  at  literature  we  find  the  birds, 
often  in  simple  reference  or  figure,  often  in  myth  or  leg- 
end. In  the  literature  of  all  races  we  find  them  and  in  the 
literature  of  all  times. 

The  compiler  of  this  book,  an  enthusiastic,  intelli- 
gent lover  and  student  of  Nature,  one  who  understands 
the  meaning  of  Nature  as  a  resource  in  life,  one  who  has 
spent  many  years  helping  others  to  see,  to  feel,  and  to 
know  the  beauty  and  the  mystery  of  the  flowers,  the  birds, 
the  woods  and  the  fields,  has  brought  together  herein  from 
those  who  have  entered  into  and  understood  bird  life  the 
myths,  legends  and  traditions;  the  pregnant  thoughts  from 

9 

M182516 


poets'  minds;  the  appreciative  descriptions  and  interpre- 
tations; that  through  these  word  pictures  we  all  may  see 
our  common  birds  in  beauty  and  in  truth, 

"For,  don't  you  mark?     We're  made  so  that  we  love 
First  when  we  see  them  painted,  things  we  have  passed 
Perhaps  a  hundred  times  nor  cared  to  see." 

This  is  just  as  true  of  the  poet's  word  picture  as  it  is 
of  the  canvas  of  Fra  Lippo  Lippi,  and  the  collector  of  these 
bird  pictures  has  rendered  a  service  and  met  a  need. 
This  book  will  arouse  and  create  an  interest  in  birds,  it  will 
lighten  the  labor  of  all  who  attempt  to  lead  others  to  appre- 
ciate and  love  our  wonderful  bird  life.  It  is  a  growth  in 
response  to  a  need,  and  is  published  because  of  the  con- 
stant demand  for  copies. 

JOHN  G.  THOMPSON. 

STATE  NORMAL  SCHOOL, 

Fitchburg,  Massachusetts. 

January,  1905. 


10 


Preface 

The  cordial  reception  given  this  volume  has  exhausted 
the  first  edition.  Believing  that  the  work  here  recorded 
should  be  perpetuated  and  its  influence  extended,  a  sec- 
ond edition  has  been  published.  This  edition  has  the 
added  attractiveness  of  sixteen  full  color  plates,  by  which 
the  characteristics  of  as  many  birds  may  be  observed.  For 
the  use  of  these  plates  the  publishers  are  indebted  to  Mr. 
Charles  K.  Reed,  Worcester,  Mass.,  author  and  publisher 
of  "Water  Birds/'  "Land  Birds/'  and  other  works. 

The  publication  of  this  compilation  has  been  made  possi- 
ble by  the  courtesy  of  those  authors  and  publishers  who  have 
generously  permitted  the  use  of  their  copyrighted  material. 

The  selections  from  the  writings  of  Longfellow,  Whit- 
tier,  Emerson,  Lowell,  Holmes,  Burroughs,  Aldrich,  Thor- 
eau,  Stedman,  Celia  Thaxter,  Lucy  Larcom,  Frank  Bolles, 
Bradford  Torrey,  Olive  Thome  Miller,  Florence  Merriam, 
Trowbridge  and  Minot  are  used  by  permissoin  of  and 
special  arrangement  with  Houghton  Mifflin  Company. 

D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  Doubleday,  Page  &  Co.,  The  Educa- 
tional Publishing  Co.,  Little,  Brown  &  Co.,  The  J.  P.  Lippin- 
cott  Co.,  Lothrop,  Lee  &  Shepard,  Charles  Scribner's  Sons, 
Harper  and  Brothers,  have  allowed  the  use  of  extracts  from 
the  books  mentioned  in  connection  with  their  names  in  the 
bibliography,  while  Messrs.  Eben  E.  Rexford  and  Ernest 
Thompson  Seton  have  kindly  consented  to  the  use  of  those 
selections  which  bear  their  names.  Such  material  of  Dr. 
Charles  Conrad  Abbott  and  Mr.  John  Burroughs  as  is  not 
controlled  by  publishers  is  used  by  the  courtesy  of  these 
gentlemen.  The  compiler  is  also  indebted  to  Messrs.  H.  R. 
Gibbs,  John  G.  Thompson  and  Henry  T.  Bailey  for  valuable 

assistance. 

ABBY  P.  CHURCHILL. 

FEBRUARY,  1911. 

11 


The  Origin  of  Birds 

Long  ago,  even  before  the  time  of  birds  in  the  world, 
say  the  Indians,  God  touched  the  earth  wherever  He  wish- 
ed a  tree  to  appear,  and  there  immediately  a  tree  sprang  up. 

Then  as  now,  when  summer  passed,  autumn  came.  In 
the  early  fall,  the  leaves  of  the  trees  changed  their  green 
to  colors  of  a  brighter  hue.  The  autumn  winds  came. 
The  leaves  in  their  play  waved  in  the  wind,  fluttered 
about  the  branches,  and  at  last  fell  to  the  ground. 

God  so  loved  the  leaves  He  did  not  wish  them  to  die,  so 
He  changed  them  to  birds,  giving  to  them  wings  and 
strength  with  which  to  fly.  From  the  red-brown  leaf  of  the 
oak  came  the  robin.  The  leaves  of  the  red  maple  changed 
to  cardinal  birds,  the  yellow  willow  leaves  became  little 
yellow  birds,  and  the  brown  leaves  flew  away  as  sparrows 
and  larks. 

Because  these  first  birds  were  once  leaves  of  the  forest, 
their  descendants  have  always  loved  the  trees  and  lived 
among  them,  finding  food  and  shelter  in  their  foliage 
and  branches. 

ADAPTED. 


13 


The  Bloodless  Sportsman 

I  go  a-gunning,  but  take  no  gun; 

I  fish  without  a  pole; 
And  I  bag  good  game,  and  catch  such  fish 

As  suit  a  sportsman's  soul; 
For  the  choicest  game  that  the  forest  holds 

And  the  best  fish  of  the  brook 
Are  never  brought  down  with  a  rifle  shot, 

And  are  never  caught  with  a  hook. 

I  bob  for  fish  by  the  forest  brook, 

I  hunt  for  game  in  the  trees, 
For  bigger  birds  than  wing  in  the  air, 

Or  fish  that  swim  the  seas. 
A  rodless  Walton  of  the  brooks, 

A  bloodless  sportsman,  I — 
I  hunt  for  the  thoughts  that  throng  the  woods. 

The  dreams  that  haunt  the  sky. 

The  woods  were  made  for  the  hunters  of  dreams, 

The  brooks  for  the  fishers  of  song; 
To  the  hunters  who  hunt  for  the  gunless  game 

The  streams  and  the  woods  belong. 
There  are  thoughts  that  moan  from  the  soul  of  the  pine, 

And  thoughts  in  a  flower  bell  curled; 
And  the  thoughts  that  are  blown  with  the  scent  of  the  fern 

Are  as  new  and  as  old  as  the  world. 

So,  away!  for  the  hunt  in  the  fern-scented  wood, 

Till  the  going  down  of  the  sun; 
There  is  plenty  of  game  still  left  in  the  woods 

For  the  hunter  who  has  no  gun. 
So,  away!  for  the  fish  by  the  moss-bordered  brook 

That  flows  through  the  velvety  sod; 
There  are  plenty  of  fish  still  left  in  the  streams 

For  the  angler  who  has  no  rod.  SAM  WALTER  Foss. 

14 


Greetings 

Darlings  of  children  and  of  bard, 

Perfect  kinds  by  vice  unmarred, 

All  of  worth  and  beauty  set 

Gems  in  Nature's  cabinet; 

These  the  fables  she  esteems 

Reality  most  like  to  dreams. 

Welcome  back,  you  little  nations, 

Far-travelled  in  the  south  plantations; 

Bring  your  music  and  rhythmic  flight, 

Your  colors  for  our  eyes'  delight : 

Freely  nestle  in  our  roof, 

Weave  your  chamber  weatherproof; 

And  your  enchanting  manners  bring 

And  your  autumnal  gathering. 

Exchange  in  conclave  general 

Greetings  kind  to  each  and  all, 

Conscious  each  of  duty  done 

And  unstained  as  the  sun.  EMERSON. 

What  are  the  voices  of  birds — 
Ay,  and  of  beasts, — but  words,  our  words, 
Only  so  much  more  sweet? 

BROWNING. 

The  little  Hiawatha 
Learned  of  every  bird  its  language, 
Learned  their  names  and  all  their  secrets, 
How  they  built  their  nests  in  summer, 
Where  they  hid  themselves  in  winter, 
Talked  with  them  whene'er  he  met  them, 
Called  them  Hiawatha's  Chickens. 

LONGFELLOW. 


15 


O,  wad  some  Power  the  giftie  gie  us 
To  see  oursels  as  ithers  see  us! 

BURNS. 


17 


Birds  in  Literature 


BITTERN,  American 

Like  the  other  members  of  its  family,  it  excels  in  stand- 
ing still,  and  will  hold  its  head  erect  and  motionless  amid 
the  tall  grass  till  the  watcher  tires  of  looking  and  pro- 
nounces the  suspicious  object  nothing  but  a  stick  after 
all.  The  bittern's  fame  rests  upon  its  vocal  performance, 
or  "boom."  This  is  sometimes  exactly  like  the  working 
of  an  old-fashioned  wooden  pump,  and  sometimes — even 
with  the  same  bird — like  the  driving  of  a  stake  in  a  bog. 
....  The  strange  notes  are  delivered  with  equally 
strange  contortions,  as  if  the  bird  were  horribly  nauseated, 
and  are  preceded  by  a  succession  of  quick  snapping  or 
gulping  sounds — "hiccoughs,"  one  observer  has  called  them. 
No  water  is  employed  in  the  operation,  in  spite  of  the 
circumstantial  assertions  of  several  persons  who  profess  to 
have  seen  the  bird  swallowing  and  then  ejecting  it. 

TORREY.     Chapman's  Handbook  of  Birds.21 


BLACKBIRD,  Crow 

He  is  one  of  the  most  brilliant  of  our  bird  beauties. 
Watch  him  as  he  ambles  over  the  branches,  and  when 
the  sunlight  strikes  him  you  will  wonder  who  could  have 
been  so  blind  as  to  dub  him  blackbird.  Call  him,  rather, 
the  black  opal.  He  is  a  bird  of  many  accomplishments. 
To  begin  with,  he  does  not  condescend  to  hop,  like  ordinary 
birds,  but  imitates  the  crow  in  his  stately  walk;  then  he 
has  a  steering  apparatus  that  the  small  boy  might  well 

19 


Blackbird,  Crow 

study  in  coasting  time.  He  can  turn  his  tail  into  a  rudder. 
....  Moreover,  he  can  pick  beechnuts,  catch  crayfish 
without  getting  nipped,  and  fish  for  minnows  alongside 
of  any  ten-year-old. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 


As  a  songster  it  is  a  most  dismal  failure.  All  the  ills 
that  ever  attacked  a  singer's  larynx  seem  concentrated  in 
its.  throat;  yet,  like  many  another  supposititious  and  exe- 
crable vocalist,  it  persists  in  trying  to  sing.  When  a  large 
number  of  them  lift  up  their  voices  together,  it  certainly 
makes  what  someone  has  aptly  called  a  good  wheelbarrow 
chorus. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 


There  is  evidently  some  music  in  the  soul  of  this  bird 
....  though  he  makes  a  sad  failure  in  getting  it  out. 
His  voice  always  sounds  as  if  he  were  laboring  under  a 
severe  attack  of  influenza,  though  a  large  flock  of  them 
heard  at  a  distance  on  a  bright  afternoon  of  early  spring 
produce  an  effect  not  unpleasing.  The  air  is  filled  with 
crackling,  splintering,  spurting,  semi-musical  sounds,  which 
are  like  pepper  and  salt  to  the  ear. 

BURROUGHS.     Wake  Robin.1 


In  consequence  of  these  depredations  [on  the  maize 
crop],  they  are  detested  by  the  farmer  as  a  pest  to  his 
industry  ....  Up  to  the  time  of  harvest  I  have  uni- 
formly, on  dissection,  found  their  food  to  consist  of  larvae, 

20 


Blackbird,  Crow 

caterpillars,  moths,  and  beetles,  of  which  they  devour 
such  numbers  that  but  for  this  providential  economy  the 
whole  crop  of  grain,  hi  many  places,  would  probably  be 
destroyed  by  the  time  it  began  to  germinate. 

NuttalPs  Ornithology.26 


It  is  impossible  to  take  this  bird  seriously,  he  is  so  irre- 
sistibly ludicrous.  His  manners  always  suggest  to  me  the 
peculiar  drollery  of  the  negro,  one  of  the  old-fashioned 
sort  as  we  read  of  him. 

OLIVE  THORNE  MILLER.    A  Bird-Lover  hi  the  West.4 


The  crow  blackbirds  cackled  and  jingled. 

BURROUGHS. 


The  blackbirds  make  the  maples  ring 
With  social  cheer  and  jubilee. 

EMERSON. 


The  blackbirds  clatt'rin'  in  tall  trees, 
An'  settlin'  things  in  windy  congresses. 

LOWELL. 


21 


BLACKBIRD,  Red-Winged 

When  early  in  March  the  Red-wings  come,  then  we  know 
that  the  tide  of  the  year  has  turned.  With  perennial 
faith  in  the  season  they  come  in  flocks  of  hundreds,  sing- 
ing their  springtime  chorus  with  a  spirit  that  March  winds 
cannot  subdue. 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 


In  oozy  pastures  where  a  brook  lazily  finds  its  way 
through  the  farm  is  the  ideal  pleasure-ground  of  this  "bird 
of  society."  His  notes  " h'-wa-ker-ee "  or  "  con-quer-ee  " 
are  liquid  in  quality,  suggesting  the  sweet,  moist,  cool 
retreats  where  he  nests. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 


Who  is  not  conscious  of  a  thrill  of  pleasure  at  sight  of 
one  of  the  handsome  birds  sailing  down  to  a  fence,  with 
scarlet  epaulettes  fairly  standing  out  on  his  shoulders? 
....  The  o-ka-lee  of  the  Red-wing  stirs  associations 
whose  richness  is  all  their  own. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 


"The  red-wing  flutes  his  o-ka-lee,"  and,  fluting  it,  blots 
out  all  -the  disaster  that  winter  has  wrought.  There  is 
no  early  spring-tide  note  so  full  of  summer;  none  that 
warms  the  landscape  so  much  and  tempers  the  March 
winds  till  they  are  softened  to  a  zephyr. 

ABBOTT.     Birds  About  Us.27 


22 


Red- Winged  Blackbird 

O  gurgle-ee-e,  o-gurgle-ee-e,  some  of  the  most  liquid 
notes  ever  heard,  as  if  produced  by  some  of  the  water 
of  the  Pierian  spring,  flowing  through  a  kind  of  musical 
water  pipe,  and  at  the  same  time  setting  in  motion  a 
multitude  of  fine  vibrating  metallic  springs.  Like  a  shep- 
herd merely  meditating  most  enrapturing  glees  on  such  a 
water  pipe. 

THOREAU.     Spring.12 


The  red-wing  flutes  his  o-ka-lee. 

EMERSON. 


BLACKBIRD,  Rusty 

They  often  indulge  in  a  curious  spluttering,  squeaking, 
musical  concert  that  one  listens  to  with  pleasure. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 


They  begin,  as  it  were,  by  disgorging  or  spitting  it  out 
like  so  much  tow,  from  a  full  throat,  and  conclude  with 
a  clear,  fine,  shrill,  ear-piercing  whistle. 

THOREAU.     Spring.12 


23 


BLUEBIRD 

Although  the  bluebird  did  not  come  over  in  the  May- 
flower, it  is  said  that  when  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  came  to 
New  England  this  bird  was  one  of  the  first  whose  gentle 
warblings  attracted  their  notice,  and,  from  its  resemblance 
to  the  beloved  Robin  Redbreast  of  their  native  land,  they 
called  it  the  Blue  Robin. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 


When  Nature  made  the  bluebird,  she  wished  to  propi- 
tiate both  the  sky  and  the  earth,  so  she  gave  him  the  color 
of  one  on  his  back  and  the  hue  of  the  other  on  his  breast, 
and  ordained  that  his  appearance  in  spring  should  denote 
that  the  strife  and  war  between  these  two  elements  was 
at  an  end.  He  is  the  peace-harbinger;  in  him  the  celestial 
and  terrestrial  strike  hands  and  are  fast  friends. 

BURROUGHS.    Wake  Robin.5 


If  the  king-bird  is  one  of  the  chief  sinners,  the  bluebird 
certainly  ranks  among  the  highest  of  the  feathered  saints — 
a  Nathaniel  indeed,  in  whom  is  no  guile.  Its  mellow, 
coaxing  love-note  is  one  of  the  most  affectionate  sounds 
in  nature,  and  matches  the  delicate  gentleness  of  its  ways, 
making  it  the  favorite  alike  of  poet  and  peasant. 

PARKHURST.    The  Birds'  Calendar.31 
/ 

24 


Bluebird 


The  bluebird  comes,  and  with  his  warble  drills  the  ice, 
and  sets  free  the  rivers  and  ponds  and  frozen  ground. 

THOREAU.     Spring.12 


Song:  "  The  violet  of  sound. " 

The  warble  of  this  bird  is  innocent  and    celestial    like 
its  color. 

THOREAU. 


Their  short  rich  warble  curls  through  the  air. 

THOREAU. 


"Dear!  dear!  think  of  it,  think  of  it. " 
Purity,  purity. 

BURROUGHS. 


Tru-al-ly,  tru-al-ly. 

BLANCHAN. 


" Far-away,  far-away."     (in  autumn.) 
"Drearily,  drearily."     (in  autumn.) 

A  bit  of  heaven  itself  . 


Winging,  springing,  always  flinging, 
Flinging  music  all  about  him. 


HARRIET  PRESCOTT  SPOFFORD. 
25 


Bluebird 


A  welcome  warm  awaits  thee 
Bright  herald  of  the  spring. 

SELECTED. 

Sparrows  far  off,  and  nearer,  April's  bird, 
Blue-coated, — flying  before  from  tree  to  tree, 
Courageous  sing  a  delicate  overture 
To  lead  the  tardy  concert  of  the  year. 

EMERSON. 

Hark!  'T  is  the  bluebird's  venturous  strain 
High  on  the  old  fringed  elm  at  the  gate — 
Sweet-voiced,  valiant  on  the  swaying  bough, 

Alert,  elate, 

Dodging  the  fitful  spits  of  snow, 
New  England's  poet-laureate 
Telling  us  Spring  has  come  again. 

T.  B.  ALDRICH. 

The  bluebird,  shifting  his  light  load  of  song 
From  post  to  post  along  the  cheerless  fence, 
Was  as  a  rhymer  ere  the  poet  came. 

LOWELL. 

Bluebird 

This  earliest  May  day  herald, 

This  prophet  of  the  spring, 
Has  brought  celestial  color 

Upon  his  breezy  wing. 

Heaven  loves  to  scatter  earthward 

Flakes  of  its  own  soft  hue; 
The  first  bird,  the  last  blossom 

Wear  the  same  shade  of  blue. 

SELECTED. 

26 


Bluebird 

The  Bluebird 

Listen    a    moment  I  pray  you;  what  was  the  sound  that  I 

heard? 

Wind  in  the  budding  branches,  the  ripple  of  brooks  or  a  bird? 
Hear  it  again,  above  us!  and  see!  a  flutter  of  wings! 
The  bluebird  knows  it  is  April,  and  soars  toward  the  sun 

and  sings. 

Never  the  song  of  the  robin  could  make  my  heart  so  glad. 
When  I  hear  the  bluebird  singing  in  spring,  I  forget  to  be  sad. 
Hear  it!  a  ripple  of  music!  sunshine  changed  into  song! 
It  sets  me  thinking  of  summer  when  the  days  and  their  dreams 
are  long. 

Winged  lute  that  we  call  a  bluebird,  you  blend  in  a  silver 
strain 

The  sound  of  the  laughing  waters,  the  patter  of  spring's  sweet 
rain, 

The  voice  of  the  winds,  the  sunshine,  and  fragrance  of  blos- 
soming things. 

Ah!    you  are  an  April  poem,  that  God   has   dowered   with 
wings! 

E.  E.  REXFORD. 


27 


Bluebird 

The  Bluebird's  Song  to  the  Flowers 

I  know  the  song  that  the  bluebird  is  singing, 
Out  in  the  apple  tree  where  he  is  swinging; 
Brave  little  fellow!  the  skies  may  be  dreary, 
Nothing  cares  he  while  his  heart  is  so  cheery. 

Hark!  how  the  music  leaps  out  from  his  throat! 
Hark!  was  there  ever  so  merry  a  note? 
Listen  awhile  and  you'll  hear  what  he's  saying, 
Up  in  the  apple  tree  swinging  and  swaying. 

"  Dear  little  blossoms,  down  under  the  snow, 
You  must  be  weary  of  winter,  I  know; 
Hark!  while  I  sing  you  a  message  of  cheer, 
Summer  is  coming  and  springtime  is  here. 

"Little  white  snowdrop,  I  pray  you  arise; 
Bright  yellow  crocus,  come  open  your  eyes; 
Sweet  little  violets,  hid  from  the  cold, 
Put  on  your  mantles  of  yellow  and  gold! 
Daffodils,  daffodils!  say,  do  you  hear? 
Summer  is  coming,  and  springtime  is  here!" 

SELECTED. 


28 


Bluebird 

Bluebirds  and  Robins 

AN   INDIAN   LEGEND. 

Wenonah,  the  motherless  daughter  of  an  Indian  chief, 
loved  nothing  so  well  as  the  birds  and  beasts  of  the  field. 
She  was  happy  only  when  she  was  with  them.  Even  the 
fiercest  of  the  animals  often  carried  their  young  to  her  that 
she  might  caress  them. 

Of  all  the  birds  she  loved  the  robins  and  the  bluebirds 
best,  and,  when,  one  spring  morning  just  at  day-dawn, 
she  received  a  message  to  join  her  mother  in  the  spirit-land, 
she  asked  these  birds  to  accompany  her  part  of  the  way 
that  her  departure  might  be  unseen. 

Before  they  set  out,  she  took  some  moist  clay  and  rubbed 
it  on  the  breasts  of  the  birds  as  a  sign  that  they  should  re- 
turn in  safety  to  the  earth.  After  a  long  flight  the  rays  of 
the  rising  sun  shone  upon  their  breasts  and  turned  them  to 
a  brick-red  color.  When  Wenonah  saw  this  she  told  them 
that  they  must  turn  back.  The  tender-hearted  bluebirds 
began  to  weep.  To  comfort  them,  Wenonah  stroked  their 
backs,  and  their  feathers,  with  the  touch  of  her  fingers, 
became  as  blue  as  the  sky  above  them.  The  birds  all  begged 
to  go  on  with  her  to  her  journey's  end,  but  she  knew  that 
this  would  be  impossible.  So  she  bade  them  farewell  and 
requested  them  to  wear  forever  on  their  breasts,  in  remem- 
brance of  her,  the  red  color  which  had  come  upon  them 
while  doing  her  this  last  loving  service. 

To  this  day  both  the  robins  and  the  bluebirds  have 
kept  their  red  breasts,  and  the  bluebirds  still  have  their 
blue  backs  and  sad  note,  and  if  the  young  do  at  first  wear 
the  old-time  spots  they  quickly  moult  away. 

ADAPTED. 

29 


BOBOLINK.     REED  BIRD.     RICE  BIRD 

A  handsome,  gifted,  and  striking  individual,  renowned 
in  prose  and  poetry  as  a  most  dashing,  happy-go-lucky 
sort  of  fellow,  a  feathered  extravaganza,  an  intoxicated 
soloist,  an  artistic  comedian. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 


I  cannot  look  upon  him  as  ever  in  a  very  serious  humor. 
He  seems  to  be  a  lively,  jocular  little  fellow,  who  is  always 
jesting  and  bantering;  and  when  half  a  dozen  different 
individuals  are  sporting  about  in  the  same  orchard,  I  can 
imagine  they  might  represent  the  persons  dramatized  in 

some  comic  opera In  the  grand  concert  of  Nature 

it  is  the  bobolink  that  performs  the  recitative,  which  he 
delivers  with  the  utmost  fluency  and  rapidity,  and  we 
must  listen  carefully  not  to  lose  many  of  his  words. 

FLAGG.    A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 


The  most  exuberantly  happy  of  all  our  birds,  he  seems 
to  contain  the  essence  of  summer  joy  and  sunshine.  "  Bobo- 
linkum-linkum-deah-deah-deah "  he  warbles  away,  the 
notes  fairly  tumbling  over  each  other  as  they  pour  out 
of  his  throat. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 


It  is  as  if  he  touched  his  harp  within  a  vase  of  liquid 
melody  and  when  he  lifted  it  out  the  notes  fell  like  bubbles 
from  the  trembling  strings. 

THOREAU.     Walden.16 


Bobolink.     Reed  Bird.     Rcei  Bird 

Instead  of  the  light-colored  shirt  and  vest  and  decorous 
dark  coat  sanctioned  by  the  Worth  of  conventional  bird 
circles  for  centuries,  this  radical  decks  himself  out  in  a 
jet-black  shirt  and  vest,  with  not  so  much  as  a  white  collar 
to  redeem  him;  besides  having  all  of  four  almost  white 
patches  on  the  back  of  his  coat ! 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 


When  the  bobolinks  go  south  they  stop  on  the  way, 
first  in  the  marshes,  where  they  are  known  as  "Reed- 
birds,"  and  then  in  the  rice-fields  of  South  Carolina  and 
Georgia,  where  they  are  known  as  "  Rice-birds. " 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 


He  turns  lightly  about  and  breaks  out  with  a  song 
precisely  analogous  to  a  burst  of  gay  and  self-satisfied 
laughter,  as  much  as  to  say,  "Ha!  ha!  ha!  I  must  have 
my  fun,  Miss  Silverthimble,  thimble,  thimble,  if  I  break 
every  heart  in  the  meadow,  see,  see,  see!" 

BURROUGHS.    Birds  and  Poets.10 


From  time  to  time  during  a  long  period  of  years  I  have 
added  an  occasional  note  or  two  to  my  singular  vocabulary 
caught  from  this  meadow  doggerel.  .  .  .  Here  is  the 

list  copied  from  my  random  notes 

"Bob-o-  link  o'  love  o'  lucky  o'  linkum  o'  linkum  a 
jingle  a  jingle  a  ditty  bob  for  bonny  Missus  Linkum  see 
see  keep  an  eye  up  here  my  sweet  see  see  hear  me  tinkle 

31 


Bobolink.     Reed  Bird.     Rice  Bird 

tinkle  sprinkle  such  a  liquid  mellow  glee  wet  your  whistle 
bob  temperance  O  gush  a  gurgle  scatter  spatter  such  a 
carol  as  she  alone  can  follow  follow  pipe  it  pipe  it  bob  O 
tintinnabulate  for  temperance  temperance  whink  a  seeble 
seeble  here  I  go  across  the  clover  sprink  a  j inkle  sprinkle 
treble  burst  a  bubble  purl  a  babble  gabble  glee  shake  it 
out  upon  the  meadow  chink  a  link  a  wheedle  see  look'ee- 
look'ee  ninkum  ninkum  deacon  yonder  see  yessir  yessir 
funny  fellow  he  whew  whew  but  I  must  seek  a  rest  for 
my  cap  is  coming  off  and  I  can  hardly  keep  my  jacket 
on  whew  temperance" 

GIBSON.     Starlight  and  Sunshine.33 


Gladness  of  woods,  skies,  waters,  all  in  one, 

The  bobolink  has  come,  and,  like  the  soul 

Of  the  sweet  season  vocal  in  a  bird, 

Gurgles  in  ecstasy  we  know  not  what 

Save  June!  Dear  June!  Now  God  be  praised  for  June. 

LOWELL. 

June's  bridesman,  poet  o'  the  year, 

Gladness  on  wings,  the  bobolink,  is  here; 

Half -hid  in  tip-top  apple  blooms  he  swings, 

Or  climbs  aginst  the  breeze  with  quiver'  in  wings, 

Or,  givin'  way  to  't  in  a  mock  despair, 

Runs  down,  a  brook  o'  laughter,  thru  the  air. 

LOWELL. 

Why,  I'd  give  more  for  one  live  bobolink 
Than  a  square  mile  o'  larks  in  printer's  ink. 

LOWELL. 


32 


Bobolink.     Reed  Bird.   Rice  Bird 

The  crack-brained  bobolink  courts  his  crazy  mate 

Poised  on  a  bulrush  tipsy  with  his  weight.  HOLMES. 

When  Nature  had  made  all  her  birds, 

With  no  more  cares  to  think  on, 
She  gave  a  rippling  laugh  and  out 

There  flew  a  Bobolinkon.  C.  P.  CEANCH. 

One  day  in  the  bluest  of  summer  weather, 

Sketching  under  a  whispering  oak, 
I  heard  five  bobolinks  laughing  together 

Over  some  ornithological  joke.  C.  P.  CRANCH. 

When  little  Teddy  heard  a  merry  bobolink, 

He  said,  "  Mamma,  that  bird  is  laughing,  I  should  think. " 

Still  rang  the  wondrous  song, 

So  varied,  clear  and  strong, 

And  listening  Teddy  cried, 
"Why,  I  should  think  he  tied  a  lot  of  songs  together." 

SELECTED. 

Out  in  the  clover,  blowing  free, 

As  the  white  clouds  roll  away, 
In  a  mad-cap  ripple  of  ecstasy, 

He's  pouring  his  merry  lay. 
'Neath  the  blue  of  the  peaceful  summer  skies, 

Where  the  bees  round  the  flowers  throng, 
His  wake,  as  over  the  field  he  flies, 

Is  a  bubbling  trail  of  song. 
O  bobolinkum,  by  fancy  led, 

What  a  happy  fate  to  wing 
O'er  the  sea  of  clover,  billowy  red, 

With  nothing  to  do  but  sing.  E.  E.  REXFORD. 

33 


Bobolink.     Reed  Bird.     Rice  Bird 

Robert  of  Lincoln 

Merrily  swinging  on  brier  and  weed, 
Near  to  the  nest  of  his  little  dame, 
Over  the  mountain-side  or  mead, 
Robert  of  Lincoln  is  telling  his  name : 
Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-link, 
Spink,  spank,  spink; 
Snug  and  safe  is  that  nest  of  ours, 
Hidden  among  the  summer  flowers. 
Chee,  chee,  chee. 

Robert  of  Lincoln  is  gaily  drest, 

Wearing  a  bright  black  wedding-coat; 
White  are  his  shoulders  and  white  his  crest. 
Hear  him  call  in  his  merry  note: 
Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-link, 
Spink,  spank,  spink; 
Look,  what  a  nice  new  coat  is  mine, 
Sure  there  was  never  a  bird  so  fine. 
Chee,  chee,  chee. 

Robert  of  Lincoln's  Quaker  wife, 

Pretty  and  quiet,  with  plain  brown  wings, 
Passing  at  home  a  patient  life, 
Broods  in  the  grass  while  her  husband  sings: 
Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-link, 
Spink,  spank,  spink; 
Brood,  kind  creature;  you  need  not  fear 
Thieves  and  robbers  while  I  am  here. 
Chee,  chee,  chee. 


34 


Bobolink.     Reed  Bird.   Rice  Bird 


Modest  and  shy  as  a  nun  is  she; 

One  weak  chirp  is  her  only  note. 
Braggart  and  prince  of  braggarts  is  he, 
Pouring  boasts  from  his  little  throat: 
Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-link, 
Spink,  spank,  spink; 
Never  was  I  afraid  of  man; 
Catch  me,  cowardly  knaves,  if  you  can! 
Chee,  chee,  chee. 


Six  white  eggs  on  a  bed  of  hay, 
Flecked  with  purple,  a  pretty  sight! 
There  as  the  mother  sits  all  day, 
Robert  is  singing  with  all  his  might: 
Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-link, 
Spink,  spank,  spink; 
Nice  good  wife,  that  never  goes  out, 
Keeping  house  while  I  frolic  about. 
Chee,  chee,  chee. 


Soon  as  the  little  ones  chip  the  shell, 
Six  wide  mouths  are  open  for  food; 
Robert  of  Lincoln  bestirs  him  well, 
Gathering  seeds  for  the  hungry  brood. 
Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-link, 
Spink,  spank,  spink; 
This  new  life  is  likely  to  be 
Hard  for  a  gay  young  fellow  like  me. 
Chee,  chee,  chee. 


35 


Bobolink.     Reed  Bird.     Rice  Bird 

Robert  of  Lincoln  at  length  is  made 

Sober  with  work,  and  silent  with  care; 
Off  is  his  holiday  garment  laid, 
Half  forgotten  that  merry  air: 
Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-link, 
Spink,  spank,  spink; 
Nobody  knows  but  my  mate  and  I 
Where  our  nest  and  our  nestlings  lie. 
Chee,  chee,  chee. 

Summer  wanes;  the  children  are  grown; 

Fun  and  frolic  no  more  he  knows; 
Robert  of  Lincoln's  a  humdrum  crone; 
Off  he  flies,  and  we  sing  as  he  goes : 
Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-link, 
Spink,  spank,  spink. 

When  you  can  pipe  that  merry  old  strain, 
Robert  of  Lincoln,  come  back  again. 
Chee,  chee,  chee. 

BRYANT. 

The  O'Lincoln  Family 

A  flock  of  singing  birds  were  sporting  in  the  grove; 

Some  were  warbling  cheerily  and  some  were  making  love. 

There      were      Bobolincon,       Wadolincon,       Winterseeble, 

Conquedle — 

A  livelier  set  were  never  led  by  tabor,  pipe,  or  fiddle: — 
Crying,  "Phew,  shew,  Wadolincon;  see,  see  Bobolincon 
Down  among  the  tickle-tops,  hiding  in  the  buttercups; 
I  know  the  saucy  chap;  I  see  his  shining  cap 
Bobbing  in  the  clover  there, — see,  see,  see!" 

36 


Bobolink.     Reed  Bird.   Rice  Bird 

Up  flies  Bobolincon,  perching  on  an  apple  tree; 

Startled  by  his  rival's  song,  quickened  by  his  raillery. 

Soon  he  spies  the  rogue  afloat,  curvetting  in  the  air, 

And  merrily  he  turns  about  and  warns  him  to  beware! 

"  "Us  you  that  would  a  wooing  go,  down  among  the  rushes  O ! 

Wait  a  week,  till  flowers  are  cheery;  wait  a  week,  and  ere 

you  marry, 

Be  sure  of  a  house  wherein  to  tarry; 
Wadolink,  Whiskodink,  Tom  Denny,  wait,  wait,  wait!" 

Every  one's  a  funny  fellow;  every  one's  a  little  mellow; 
Follow,  follow,  follow,  follow,  o'er  the  hill  and  in  the  hollow. 
Merrily,  merrily  there  they  hie;  now  they  rise  and  now  they  fly; 
They  cross  and  turn,  and  in  and  out,  and  down  the  middle 

and  wheel  about, 

With  a  "Phew,  shew,  Wadolincon;  listen  to  me,  Bobolincon! 
Happy's  the  wooing  that's  speedily  doing, 
That's  merry  and  over  with  the  bloom  of  the  clover; 
Bobolincon,  Wadolincon,  Winsterseeble,  follow,  follow  me!" 

O  what  a  happy  life  they  lead,  over  the  hill  and  in  the  mead ! 
How  they  sing,  and  how  they  play!  See,  they  fly  away,  away! 
Now  they  gambol  o'er  the  clearing, — off  again,  and  then 

appearing : ; 
Poised  aloft  on  quivering  wing,  now  they  soar,  and  now  they 

sing, 
"We  must  all  be  merry  and  moving;  we  must  all  be  happy 

and  loving; 

For  when  midsummer  is  come,  and  the  grain  has  ripened  its  ear, 
The  haymakers  scatter  our  young,  and  we  mourn  for  the 

rest  of  the  year; 
Then,    Bobolincon,    Wadolincon,    Winterseeble,  haste,  haste 

WILSON  FLAGG. 
37 


BUNTING,  SNOW.    SNOWFLAKE 

They  are  the  true  spirits  of  the  snow-storm.  They  are 
the  animated  beings  that  ride  upon  it  and  have  their  life 
in  it. 

THOREAU.    Winter.15 


These  birds  seem  to  be  at  their  happiest  in  a  storm, 
and  whenever  one  comes  their  way  they  join  in  its  whirl 
and  scurry  just  for  the  fun  of  its  fierce  revelry,  birds  and 
flakes  mingling  in  the  same  wild  dance. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.    Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 


With  a  uniformity  of  movement  which  would  put  to 
shame  the  evolutions  of  the  best-drilled  troops,  they  whirl 
over  the  snow-clad  fields,  wheeling  to  right  or  left,  as 
though  governed  by  a  single  impulse.  Suddenly  they 
swing  downward  into  a  weedy  field,  alighting  on  the  snow 
or  ground,  where  they  run — not  hop  about — like  little 
beach  birds. 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 


Their  white  forms  seen  against  the  intense  blue  give  the 
impression  of  large  snowflakes  drifting  across  the  sky. 

BURROUGHS.    Pepacton.9 


When  they  rise  all  together,  their  note  is  like  the  rattling 
of  nuts  in  a  bag,  as  if  the  whole  bin-full  were  rolled  from 
side  to  side. 

THOREAU.    Autumn.14 


Bunting,  Snow.     Snowflake 

In  its  plumage  it  reflects  the  winter  landscape, — an 
expanse  of  white  surmounted  or  streaked  with  gray  or 
brown;  a  field  of  snow  with  a  line  of  woods  or  a  tinge 
of  stubble. 

BURROUGHS.     Birds  and  Poets.10 


These  are  the  true  winter  birds  for  you,  these  winged 
snowballs. 

THOREAU.    Winter.15 


BUTCHER-BIRD.  NORTHERN  SHRIKE 

Not  even  a  hawk  himself  can  produce  the  consternation 
among  a  flock  of  sparrows  that  the  harsh,  rasping  voice 

of  the  butcher-bird   creates Every  shrike  either 

impales  or  else  hangs  up,  as  a  butcher  does  his  meat,  more 
little  birds  of  many  kinds,  field-mice,  grasshoppers,  and 
other  large  insects  than  it  can  hope  to  devour  in  a  week 
of  bloody  orgies.  Field-mice  are  perhaps  its  favorite  diet 
but  even  snakes  are  not  disdained. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 


The  shrike  has  a  hawk's  bill  but  a  sparrow's  foot,  and, 
lacking  the  powerful  talons  that  make  so  deadly  a  weapon, 
he  captures  his  prey  with  his  strong  mandibles.  Possibly 
it  may  be  due  to  his  comparatively  weak  feet  that  he 
pursues  the  singular  custom  of  impaling  his  prey  on  some 
thorn  or  hanging  it  from  a  crotch  where  he  can  better 
dissect  it. 

CHAPMAN.    Bird  Life.22 


39 


Butcher-Bird.     Northern  Shrike 

Perched  on  a  point  of  vantage  on  some  tree-top  or 
weather-vane,  his  hawk-like  eye  can  detect  a  grasshopper 
going  through  the  grass  fifty  yards  away. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 


My  attention  was  first  called  to  it  by  hearing  a  harsh, 
uncouth  noise,  as  unmusical  as  the  creaking  of  a  hinge, 
which  it  somewhat  resembled,  but  with  a  venomous  touch 
of  animosity.  I  never  heard  anything  more  barbaric 
from  the  throat  of  any  bird. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 


In  Germany  he  is  called  the  nine-killer,  from  the  belief 
that  he  kills  and  sticks  upon  thorns  nine  grasshoppers  a 
day. 

BURROUGHS.     Locusts  and  Wild  Honey.6 


CATBIRD 

It  is  unfortunate  that  the  catbird's  name  should  have 
originated  in  his  call-note  rather  than  in  his  song.  The 
former  is  a  petulant,  whining,  nasal  tchay,  to  me  one  of 
the  most  disagreeable  sounds  in  Nature,  and  so  unlike 
the  bird's  song  that  he  seems  possessed  of  a  dual  person- 
ality. The  catbird's  song,  from  a  musical  standpoint,  is 
excelled  by  that  of  few  of  our  birds.  His  voice  is  full 
and  rich,  his  execution  and  phrasing  are  faultless. 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 
40 


Catbird 


The  catbird  is  unmistakably  a  Bohemian.  He  is  ex- 
quisitely formed,  and  has  a  beautiful  slate-gray  coat,  set 
off  by  his  black  head  and  tail.  By  nature  he  is  peculiarly 
graceful,  and  when  he  chooses  can  pass  for  the  most  polished 
of  the  Philistine  aristocracy.  But  he  cares  nothing  for 
all  this.  With  lazy  self-indulgence  he  sits  by  the  hour 
with  relaxed  muscles,  and  listlessly  drooping  wings  and 
tail.  If  he  were  a  man  you  feel  confident  that  he  would 
sit  in  shirt-sleeves  at  home  and  go  on  the  street  without 
a  collar. 
FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.  Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 

He  is  the  veriest  "Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr.  Hyde"  of  birds. 
Exquisitely  proportioned,  with  finely-poised  black  head 
and  satin-gray  coat,  which  he  bathes  most  carefully  and 
prunes  and  prinks  by  the  hour,  he  appears  from  his  toilet 
a  Beau  Brummell,  an  aristocratic-looking,  even  dandified 
neighbor.  Suddenly,  as  if  shot,  he  drops  head  and  tail 
and  assumes  the  most  hang-dog  air,  without  the  least 
sign  of  self-respect;  then  crouches  and  lengthens  into  a 
roll,  head  forward  and  tail  straightened,  till  he  looks  like 
a  little,  short  gray  snake,  lank  and  limp.  Anon,  with  a 
jerk  and  a  sprint,  every  muscle  tense,  tail  erect,  eyes  snap- 
ping, he  darts  into  the  air  intent  upon  some  well-planned 
mischief.  It  is  impossible  to  describe  his  various  attitudes 
and  moods. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

The  catbird  mother  is  one  of  the  most  anxious  and 
devoted.  If  her  nest  is  discovered,  she  exhibits  so  much 
distress  that  one  sympathetic  to  bird  griefs  has  no  heart 
to  pursue  investigations. 

41 


Catbird 


The  catbird  is  generous  and  helpful  to  others  of  his 
kind  in  trouble  of  any  sort,  feeding  and  caring  for  deserted 
or  orphaned  young  ones  of  any  species,  and  always  ready 
to  aid  distracted  parents  in  the  defense  of  their  homes 
and  little  ones. 


21 


OLIVE  THORNE  MILLER.    Chapman's  Handbook  of  Birds. 


Ambitious  of  song,  practising  and  rehearsing  in  private, 
she  yet  seems  the  least  sincere  and  genuine  of  the  sylvan 
minstrels,  as  if  she  had  taken  up  music  only  to  be  in  fashion, 
or  not  to  be  outdone  by  the  robins  and  thrushes.  In 
other  words  she  seems  to  sing  from  some  outward  motive, 
and  not  from  inward  joyousness.  She  is  a  good  versifier 
but  not  a  great  poet.  Vigorous,  rapid,  copious,  not  with- 
out fine  touches,  but  destitute  of  any  high,  serene  melody, 

her  performance always    implies    a    spectator. 

There  is  a  certain  air  and  polish  about  her  strain,  however, 
....  that  commands  respect. 

BURROUGHS.    Wake  Robin.5 


The  Pussy-Cat  Bird 

To-day  when  the  sun  shone  just  after  the  shower, 
A  song  bubbled  up  from  the  lilac-tree  bower, 
That  changed  of  a  sudden  to  quavers  so  queer, 
For  a  moment  I  thought  something  wrong  in  my  ear, 
Then  I  called  little  Dempster  and  asked  if  he  heard. 
"Oh,  yes/'  he  replied;  "it's  the  pussy-cat  bird." 

42 


Catbird 


The  pussy-cat  bird  has  the  blackest  of  bills, 
With  which  she  makes  all  of  her  trebles  and  trills: 
She  can  mimic  a  robin  or  sing  like  a  wren, 
And  I  truly  believe  she  can  cluck  like  a  hen; 
And  sometimes  you  dream  that  her  song  is  a  word. 
Then  quickly  again — she's  a  pussy-cat  bird. 

The  pussy-cat  bird  wears  a  gown  like  a  nun, 

But  she's  chirk  as  a  squirrel  and  chock-full  of  fun, 

She  lives  in  a  house  upon  Evergreen  Lane, — 

A  snug  little  house,  although  modest  and  plain; 

And  never  a  puss  that  was  happier  purred 

Than  the  feathered  and  winged  little  pussy-cat  bird. 

CLINTON  SCOLLAKD. 


The  Cat-Bird 

Through  the  night  and  through  the  day 
Runs  a  babbling  brook  away, 
'Neath  the  hill  and  to  the  river 
Through  the  pasture,  on  forever. 
Shadowy  playmates  still  I  see, 
Rivalling  the  brooklet's  glee; 
And  the  cat-bird's  voice  I  hear, 
That  so  piqued  my  childhood's  ear. 

Saucy,  mocking  cat-bird 
On  the  alder  spray, 

Even  now  I  hear  thee, 
Though  so  far  away. 


43 


Catbird 


Thou  incarnate,  wicked  joy, 
How  I  watched  thee  as  a  boy, — 
Mocking  with  thy  saucy  call 
Robin,  jay,  kingfisher,  all,— 
Picking  up  the  varied  notes 
As  they  fell  from  feathery  throats, 
Screeching  as  in  demon  glee 
Our  astonishment  to  see ! 
Ashen-coated  cat-bird 

On  the  alder  spray, 
Mocking  all  thy  fellows 

Through  the  live-long  day. 

Thou  highwayman  of  the  wood, 
Our  New  England  Robin  Hood, 
Eating  eggs  thou  did'st  not  lay, 
Making  other  nests  thy  prey, 
How  with  childish  wrath  we  heard 
Tales  of  thee,  thou  wicked  bird, — 
Of  feathered  maidens  in  distress, — 
Longing  still  to  make  redress; — 

But  thou,  saucy  cat-bird, 
On  the  alder  spray, 

All  our  maledictions 

Mocked  and  jeered  away! 

Oft  amid  the  leaves  descried, 
With  thy  pert  head  cocked  one  side, 
Oddly  jerking  thy  long  tail, 
How  I've  heard  thee  jeer  and  rail, 
Scolding  on  through  all  the  weathers, 
Like  a  Carlyle  dressed  in  feathers; 


44 


Catbird 


Then  to  mock  the  mockery, 
Thou  woulcTst  bubble  o'er  in  glee. 
O  thou  cynic  cat-bird, 
Mimicking  mankind, 
All  our  whims  and  fancies 
Laughing  down  the  wind. 

Tragic,  comic  actor  thou, 
For  thy  stage  an  alder  bough; 
Now,  some  borrowed  joyous  note 
Pouring  from  thy  feigning  throat; 
Now,  from  wailing  puss  in  sorrow 
Her  alarm  cry  thou  dost  borrow; 
Till,  to  us  bewildered,  seems 
Each  but  fancies  of  our  dreams. 

Mimic  actor,  cat-bird, 
Thus  thy  betters  do, 

Till  'tween  good  and  evil 
Nothing  seemeth  true. 

Cat-bird,  but  I  love  thee  still, 
By  the  brook-side,  'neath  the  hill, 
Laughing,  mocking  in  the  trees, 
Feathered  Mephistopheles; 
Playing  out  thy  varied  part, 
Mirroring  the  human  heart; 
Fretting,  scolding,  scornful,  then 
Bursting  out,  in  joy,  again! 

Good  and  evil  cat-bird 
On  the  alder  spray, 

Like  thy  contradictions 

Run  our  lives  away.  M.  J.  SAVAGE. 


45 


CHAT,  YELLOW-BREASTED 

If  classification  were  based  on  character,  the  chat  would 

surely  be  placed  in  a  family  by  itself If  you 

will  conceal  yourself  near  his  home,  you  may  see  him 
deliver  part  of  his  repertoire  while  on  the  wing,  with  legs 
dangling,  wings  and  tail  napping,  and  his  whole  appearance 
suggesting  that  of  a  bird  who  has  had  an  unfortunate 
encounter  with  a  charge  of  shot. 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 


Now  he  barks  like  a  puppy,  then  quacks  like  a  duck, 
then  rattles  like  a  kingfisher,  then  squalls  like  a  fox,  then 
caws  like  a  crow,  then  mews  like  a  cat  .  .  .  C-r-r-r-r-r — 
whrr, — that's  it, — chee, — quack,  cluck — ,yit-yit-yit, — now 
hit  it, — tr-r-r-r, — when,  caw,  caw, — cut,  cut, — tea-boy,— 
who,  who, — mew,  mew. 

BURROUGHS.    Wake  Robin.6 


This  is  surely  the  clown  among  birds He  has 

the  habit  of  singing  ....  on  moonlight  nights. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

CEDAR-BIRD.    CEDAR  WAXWING 

"The  prince  of  feathered  beaux." 

These  birds  are  singularly  gentle  and  refined;  soft  of 
voice  as  they  are  of  color,  their  plumage  suggesting  a  fine 
Japanese  water-color  painting  on  silk,  with  its  beautiful 
sheen  and  exquisitely  blended  tints. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 
46 


Cedar-Bird.     Cedar  Waxwing 

They  are  birds  of  remarkable  affection  and  intelligence, 
and  their  habits  are  peculiarly  interesting.  By  lowering 
and  raising  their  crests  they  gain  great  variety  of  expres- 
sion, and  when  about  the  nest  often  assume  protective 
attitudes,  drawing  themselves  up  to  look  like  long-necked 
bottles  or  sticks  of  wood,  and  sitting  absolutely  motionless 
till  one  would  imagine  further  endurance  impossible. 

FLORENCE  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

These  birds  have  even  adopted  the  human  symbol  of 
tenderness,  and  are  often  seen  kissing  each  other. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.    Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 

Dr.  Brewer  says  of  this  species  as  proof  of  their  devotion 
to  one  another  and  their  offspring:  "Once  when  one  had 
been  taken  in  a  net  spread  over  strawberries,  its  mate 
refused  to  leave  it,  suffered  itself  to  be  taken  in  the  hand 
in  its  anxiety  to  free  its  mate,  and  when  set  at  liberty, 
would  not  leave  until  its  mate  had  also  been  released  and 
permitted  to  go  with  it." 

FLAGG.    A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 

He  has  no  song  or  call,  uttering  only  a  fine  bead-like 
note  on  taking  flight.  This  note  is  the  cedar-berry  rendered 

back  in  sound But  in  lieu  of  music,  what    a 

pretty  compensation  are  those  minute,  almost  artificial- 
like  plumes  of  orange  and  vermilion  that  tip  the  ends  of 
the  primaries!  Nature  could  not  give  him  these  and  a 
song  too. 

BURROUGHS.    Locusts  and  Wild  Honey.6 

47 


CHEBEC.    LEAST  FLYCATCHER 

The  diminutive  olive-pated  gray  sprite. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.5 


He  is  a  fearless  little  warrior,  snapping  his  bill  ominously 

as  he  charges   full  tilt  at  his  enemy in  coat  and 

habit  a  miniature  of  the  phoebe  and  wood  pewee,  jerking 
not  only  his  tail  but  his  whole  body  with  his  emphatic 
call. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 


Instead  of  the  simple  melody  we  might  expect  to  hear 
from  this  modest  bird,  he  salutes  us  with  a  singularly 
inappropriate,  business-like  chebec,  chebec,  varying  the 
performance  by  murderous  sallies  after  passing  insects. 
In  crescendo  passages,  he  literally  rises  to  the  occasion, 
and  on  trembling  wings  sings  an  absurd  "  chebec,  tooral- 
ooral,  chebec,  tooral-ooral, "  with  an  earnestness  deserving 
better  results. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 


CHEWINK.    TOWHEE.     GROUND  ROBIN 

There  is  a  vigorousness  about  the  towhee's  notes  and 
actions  which  suggests  both  a  bustling,  energetic  disposition 
and  a  good  constitution.  He  entirely  dominates  the 
thicket  or  bushy  undergrowth  in  which  he  makes  his  home. 
The  dead  leaves  fly  before  his  attack.  His  white-tipped 
tail-feathers  flash  in  the  gloom  of  his  haunts.  He  greets 

48 


Chewink.     Towhee.     Ground  Robin 

all  passers  with  a  brisk  inquiring  chewink,  towhee,  and  if 
you  pause  to  reply,  with  a  fluff-fluff  of  his  short,  rounded 
wings  he  flies  to  a  near-by  limb  to  better  inspect  you. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 
Song:    Whip  your  chr-r-r-r-r.  THOREAU. 

11  Drink  your  te-he-he-he-he. " 
"If  you  pl-e-a-se." 


CHICKADEE.    BLACK-CAPPED  TITMOUSE 

What  a  blessing  it  would  be  if  every  one  spoke  his  name 
as  plainly  as  does  this  animated  bunch  of  black  and  white 
feathers ! 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 


When  you  hear  it,  if  you  look  carefully  over  the  trees 
you  will  see  a  fluffy  little  body  dressed  out  in  a  black  hood 
whose  sombre  tone  is  relieved  by  whitish  side  pieces,  a 
vest  to  match  the  sides  of  the  hood,  and  a  dark  gray  coat 
for  contrast. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 


Who  can  help  loving  a  bird  so  courageous,  "so  frolic, 
stout,  and  self-possest"?  Emerson  did  well  to  call  him 
a  scrap  of  valor. 

TORREY.     Every  Day  Birds.18 

49 


Chickadee.   Black-Capped  Titmouse 

It  fairly  overflows  with  good  spirits,  and  is  never  more 
contagiously  gay  than  in  a  snow-storm. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

His  jollity  is  absolutely  contagious.  The  man  that  can 
listen  to  his  rollicking  outburst  and  not  smile  in  sympathy, 
mark  my  words,  that  man  is  a  villain He  pre- 
sents a  very  practical  claim  upon  our  admiration  in  the 
fact  that,  from  a  series  of  careful  observations  once  made 
at  Paris,  it  has  been  estimated  that  a  single  specimen  of 
this  species,  at  the  lowest  computation,  destroys  annually 
two  hundred  thousand  eggs  alone  of  noxious  insects. 

PARKHURST.    The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

They  are  never  silent.  It  is  a  matter  of  chick-a-dee-dee, 
or  tsee-deet,  or  phe-bee,  all  the  day  long,  the  last  of  the 
three  notes  perhaps  being  a  love-call. 

ABBOTT.     Birds  About  Us.27 

There  is  no  sorrow  in  thy  song, 

No  winter  in  thy  year.  EMERSON. 

The  Titmouse 

You  shall  not  be  overbold 
When  you  deal  with  Arctic  cold, 
As  late  I  found  my  lukewarm  blood 
Chilled,  wading  in  the  snow-choked  wood, 
How  should  I  fight?  my  foeman  fine 
Has  million  arms  to  one  of  mine : 

50 


The  Titmouse 


East,  west,  for  aid  I  looked  in  vain, 
East,  west,  north,  south,  are  his  domain. 
Miles  off,  three  dangerous  miles,  is  home; 
Must  borrow  his  winds  who  there  would  come. 
Up  and  away  for  life!  be  fleet! — 
The  frost-king  ties  my  fumbling  feet, 
Sings  in  my  ears,  my  hands  are  stones, 
Curdles  the  blood  to  the  marble  bones, 
Tugs  at  the  heart-strings,  numbs  the  sense, 
And  hems  in  life  with  narrowing  fence. 
Well,  in  this  broad  bed  lie  and  sleep, — 
The  punctual  stars  will  vigil  keep, 
Embalmed  by  purifying  cold; 
The  winds  shall  sing  their  dead-march  old, 
The  snow  is  no  ignoble  shroud, 
The  moon  thy  mourner,  and  the  cloud. 

Softly, — but  this  way  Fate  was  pointing, 
'Twas  coming  fast  to  such  anointing, 
When  piped  a  tiny  voice  hard  by, 
Gay  and  polite,  a  cheerful  cry, 
Chic-chicadeedee !  saucy  note 
Out  of  sound  heart  and  merry  throat, 
As  if  it  said,  "Good  day,  good  sir! 
Fine  afternoon,  old  passenger! 
Happy  to  meet  you  in  these  places, 
Where  January  brings  few  faces. " 

This  poet,  though  he  live  apart, 
Moved  by  his  hospitable  heart, 
Sped,  when  I  passed  his  sylvan  fort, 
To  do  the  honors  of  his  court, 


51 


The  Titmouse 


As  fits  a  feathered  lord  of  land ; 
Flew  near,  with  soft  wing  grazed  my  hand, 
Hopped  on  the  bough,  then,  darting  low, 
Prints  his  small  impress  on  the  snow, 
Shows  feats  of  his  gymnastic  play 
Head  downward,  clinging  to  the  spray. 

Here  was  this  atom  in  full  breath, 

Hurling  defiance  at  vast  death; 

This  scrap  of  valor  just  for  play 

Fronts  the  north-wind  in  waistcoat  gray, 

As  if  to  shame  my  weak  behavior; 

I  greeted  loud  my  little  savior, 

"You  pet!  what  dost  here?  and  what  for? 

In  these  woods,  thy  small  Labrador, 

At  this  pinch,  wee  San  Salvador! 

What  fire  burns  in  that  little  chest 

So  frolic,  stout  and  self-possest? 

Henceforth  I  wear  no  stripe  but  thine; 

Ashes  and  jet  all  hues  outshine. 

Why  are  not  diamonds  black  and  gray, 

To  ape  thy  dare-devil  array? 

And  I  affirm,  the  spacious  North 

Exists  to  draw  thy  virtue  forth. 

I  think  no  virtue  goes  with  size; 

The  reason  of  all  cowardice 

Is,  that  men  are  overgrown, 

And,  to  be  valiant,  must  come  down 

To  the  titmouse  dimension." 

'Tis  good-will  makes  intelligence, 

And  I  began  to  catch  the  sense 


52 


The  Titmouse 


Of  my  bird's  song:  "Live  out  of  doors 
In  the  great  woods,  on  prairie  floors. 
I  dine  in  the  sun;  when  he  sinks  in  the  sea, 
I  too  have  a  hole  in  a  hollow  tree; 
And  I  like  less  when  Summer  beats 
With  stifling  beams  on  these  retreats, 
Than  noontide  twilights  which  snow  makes 
With  tempest  of  the  blinding  flakes, 
For  well  the  soul,  if  stout  within, 
Can  arm  impregnably  the  skin; 
And  polar  frost  my  frame  defied, 
Made  of  the  air  that  blows  outside. " 

With  glad  remembrance  of  my  debt, 
I  homeward  turn;  farewell,  my  pet! 
When  here  again  thy  pilgrim  comes, 
He  shall  bring  store  of  seeds  and  crumbs. 
Doubt  not,  so  long  as  earth  has  bread, 
Thou  first  and  foremost  shalt  be  fed; 
The  Providence  that  is  most  large 
Takes  hearts  like  thine  in  special  charge, 
Helps  who  for  their  own  need  are  strong, 
And  the  sky  doats  on  cheerful  song. 
Henceforth  I  prize  thy  wiry  chant 
O'er  all  that  mass  and  minster  vaunt; 
For  men  mis-hear  thy  call  in  Spring, 
As  'twould  accost  some  frivolous  wing, 
Crying  out  of  the  hazel  copse,  Phe-be! 
And,  in  winter,  Chic-a-dee-dee ! 
I  think  old  Caesar  must  have  heard 
In  northern  Gaul  my  dauntless  bird 
And,  echoed  in  some  frosty  wold, 


53 


The  Titmouse 


Borrowed  thy  battle-numbers  bold. 
And  I  will  write  our  annals  new, 
And  thank  thee  for  a  better  clew, 
I,  who  dreamed  not  when  I  came  here 
To  find  the  antidote  of  fear, 
Now  hear  thee  say  in  Roman  key, 
Paean!  "Veni,  vidi,  vici". 

EMERSON. 


COWBIRD 

The  cowbird  takes  its  name  from  its  habit  of  walking 
about  among  the  cattle  in  the  pasture,  picking  up  the 
small  insects  which  the  cattle  disturb  in  their  grazing. 
The  bird  may  often  be  seen  within  a  foot  or  two  of  the 
nose  of  a  cow  or  heifer,  walking  briskly  about  like  a  minia- 
ture hen,  intently  watching  for  its  insect  pray. 

BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 


The  cowbird  is  an  acknowledged  villain,  and  has  no 
standing  in  the  bird  world.  English  sparrows,  either 
because  they  are  not  aware  of  the  customs  of  New- World 
bird  life,  or  because  of  a  possible  and  not  unlikely  affinity, 
associate  with  him;  but  no  self-respecting  American  bird 

will    be    found    in    his    company The    females, 

lacking  every  moral  and  maternal  instinct,  leave  their 
companions  only  long  enough  to  deposit  their  eggs  in  the 
nests  of  other  and  smaller  birds. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 
54 


Cowbird 


Some  of  the  foster  parents  abandon  their  nests,  or  build 
a  second  nest  over  the  eggs,  but  usually  the  milk  of  human 
kindness  conquers,  and  the  little  bird  does  her  best  to 
bring  up  the  foundling. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.    Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

In  the  spring  the  male  may  be  seen  perched  in  an  exposed 
position  on  a  treetop,  calling  his  long-drawn-out,  glassy 
kluck,  tse-e-e.  Later,  when  wooing  the  female,  he  utters 
a  curious,  gurgling  note,  resembling  the  sound  made  by 
pouring  water  rapidly  from  a  bottle,  and  accompanying  it 
by  motions  which  suggest  extreme  nausea. 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 


CREEPER,  BROWN 

The  brown  creeper's  plumage  is  one  of  Nature's  most 
successful  feats  of  mimicry — an  exact  counterfeit  in  feathers 
of  the  brown-gray  bark  on  which  the  bird  lives. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.    Bird  Neighbors.23 


After  watching  him  for  several  minutes  one  becomes 
impressed  with  the  thought  that  he  has  lost  the  only  thing 
in  the  world  he  ever  cared  for,  and  that  his  one  object 
in  life  is  to  find  it.  Ignoring  you  completely,  with  scarcely 
a  pause,  he  winds  his  way  in  a  preoccupied,  near-sighted 
manner  up  a  tree  trunk.  Having  finally  reached  the  top 
of  his  spiral  staircase,  one  might  suppose  he  would  rest 
long  enough  to  survey  his  surroundings,  but  like  a  bit 

55 


Creeper,  Brown 

of  loosened  bark  he  drops  off  to  the  base  of  the  nearest 
tree  and  resumes  his  never-ending  task. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 

If  in  the  transmigration  of  souls,  Sisyphus  was  ever 
incarnated  in  bird-form,  we  certainly  have  him  here, 
neatly  encased  in  feathers,  for  it  is  nothing  but  climb, 
climb,  climb,  and  never  getting  there. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

The  nest  of  the  creeper  is  one  to  be  searched  for  diligently, 
it  is  such  an  oddity  in  bird  architecture.  It  is  tucked 
in  under  a  bit  of  loose  bark  on  the  side  of  a  tree  trunk, 
where  it  has  a  ready-made  Mansard  roof  to  keep  off  the 
rain,  and  a  cosy  home  in  all  respects. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

The  song  is  described  by  Mr.  Brewster  as  exquisitely 
pure  and  tender,  alternately  rising  and  falling  and  "  dying 
away  in  an  indescribably  plaintive  cadence,  like  the  soft 
sigh  of  the  wind  among  the  pine  boughs. " 


CROSSBILL,  RED 

As  they  swing  about  the  pine  trees,  parrot-fashion,  with 
the  help  of  their  bill,  calling  out  kimp,  kimp,  that  sounds 
like  the  snapping  of  the  pine  cones  on  a  sunny  day,  it 
often  seems  easily  possible  to  catch  them  with  the  hand. 
At  first  glance  the  birds  would  seem  to  be  hampered  by 

56 


Crossbill,  Red 

their  crossed  beaks  in  getting  at  the  seeds  in  the  pine 
cones — a  superficial  criticism  when  the  thoroughness  and 
admirable  dexterity  of  their  work  are  better  understood. 
....  They  are  said  to  be  inordinately  fond  of  salt. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 
The  Legend  of  the  Crossbill 

FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF  JULIUS  MOSEN,  BY  LONGFELLOW. 

On  the  cross  the  dying  Saviour 
Heavenward  lifts  His  eyelids  calm, 

Feels,  but  scarcely  feels,  a  trembling 
In  His  pierced  and  bleeding  palm. 

And  by  all  the  world  forsaken, 

Sees  He  how  with  zealous  care 
At  the  ruthless  nail  of  iron 

A  little  bird  is  striving  there. 

Stained  with  blood  and  never  tiring, 

With  its  beak  it  doth  not  cease, 
From  the  cross  t'would  free  the  Saviour, 

Its  Creator's  Son  release. 

And  the  Saviour  speaks  in  mildness : 

" Blest  be  thou  of  all  the  good! 
Bear,  as  token  of  this  moment, 

Marks  of  blood  and  holy  rood!" 

And  that  bird  is  called  the  crossbill, 

Covered  all  with  blood  so  clear, 
In  the  groves  of  pine  it  singeth 

Songs,  like  legends,  strange  to  hear. 

57 


CROW,  AMERICAN 

If  we  have  an  eye  for  the  picturesque,  we  place  a  certain 
value  upon  the  broad  strong  dash  of  color  in  the  land- 
scape, given  by  a  flock  of  crows  flapping  their  course  above 
a  corn-field,  against  an  October  sky. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

The  crow  is  not  without  beauty.  His  coat  of  glossy 
black  with  voilet  reflections,  his  dark  eyes  and  sagacious 
expression  of  countenance,  his  stately  and  graceful  gait, 
and  his  steady  and  equable  flight,  all  give  him  a  proud 
and  dignified  appearance. 

FLAGG.    A  Year  With  the  Birds.26 

He  is  one  of  the  drollest,  most  intelligent  and  individual 
of  birds.  His  sedate  walk,  his  gestures  and  conversation, 
proclaim  him  a  bird  of  originality  and  reflection,  who 
will  repay  our  closest  study. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

In  spite  of  the  current  opinion  that  the  crow's  calls 
are  restricted  to  caw,  he  has  an  extended  vocabulary. 
....  That  he  can  converse  fluently  no  one  who  has 
listened  to  him  will  question.  Of  the  variants  of  caw, 
each  with  its  own  significance,  there  seems  no  end;  but 
if  you  would  be  impressed  with  the  crow's  eloquence  you 
must  hear  him  when,  in  the  fancied  privacy  of  his  own 
flock  or  family,  he  discusses  the  affairs  of  the  day.  His 
notes  then  are  low,  and  so  varied  in  tone  that  one  cannot 
doubt  their  conversational  character. 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 
58 


Crow,  American 

That  they  do  much  damage  in  the  corn-field  is  undeniable, 
but  after  the  examination  of  nine  hundred  crows'  stomachs, 
Dr.  Merriam,  of  the  Department  of  Agriculture,  states 
that  the  amount  of  good  done  by  the  crow  in  destroying 
grasshoppers,  May  beetles,  cut-worms,  and  other  injurious 
insects,  exceeds  the  loss  caused  by  the  destruction  of  corn. 
Moreover,  if  the  corn  be  tarred  before  planting,  the  crows 
will  not  touch  either  the  kernel  or  young  sprout. 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 

Some  farmers  ....  take  the  trouble  to  feed  the 
birds  old  corn  during  the  time  when  they  would  be  pulling 
up  the  young  sprouts,  for  they  realize  that  the  workman 
is  worthy  of  his  hire,  and  would  no  more  think  of  shooting 
crows  than  horses  and  cows  because  they  demand  grain 
in  return  for  their  work. 

MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

There  are  times  when  I  really  believe  they  laugh.  They 
are  great  talkers,  so  why  should  they  not  have  a  sense 
of  humor? 

ABBOTT.     Birdland  Echoes.28 

The  crow  is  a  useful  bird  in  spite  of  the  mischief  of 
which  it  is  guilty,  and  that  is  the  sum  and  substance  of 
the  whole  matter. 

ABBOTT.     Birds  About  Us.27 

Happy,  hardy  outlaws,  the  crows,  how  I  love  them! 
Alert,  social,  republican,  always  able  to  look  out  for  them- 
selves, not  afraid  of  the  cold  and  the  snow,  fishing  when 

59 


Crow,  American 

flesh  is  scarce,  and  stealing  when  other  resources  fail,  the 
crow  is  a  character  I  would  not  willingly  miss  from  the 
landscape.  He  is  the  dusky  embodiment  of  worldly 
wisdom  and  prudence. 

Then  he  is  one  of  Nature's  self-appointed  constables 
and  greatly  magnifies  his  office.  He  would  fain  arrest 
every  hawk  or  owl  or  grimalkin  that  ventures  abroad. 
I  have  known  a  posse  of  them  to  beset  the  fox  and  cry 
"Thief!"  till  Reynard  hid  himself  for  shame. 

BURROUGHS.    Winter  Sunshine.8 

Through  the  clear  skies  of  March, 

Blue  to  the  topmost  arch, 

The  crow,  harsh-clamoring,  sails. 

CELIA  THAXTER. 

Even  the  blackest  of  them  all,  the  crow, 
Renders  good  service  as  your  man-at-arms, 
Crushing  the  beetle  in  his  coat-of-mail, 
And  crying  havoc  on  the  slug  and  snail. 

LONGFELLOW. 

Oh,  say,  Jim  Crow, 
Why  is  it  you  always  go 
With  a  gloomy  coat  of  black 
The  year  long  on  your  back? 
Why  don't  you  change  its  hue, 
At  least  for  a  day  or  two, 
To  red  or  green  or  blue? 
And  why  do  you  always  wear 
Such  a  sober,  sombre  air, 

60 


Crow,  American 


As  glum  as  the  face  of  Care? 

I  wait  for  your  reply, 

And  into  the  peaceful  pause 

There  comes  a  curious,  croaking  cry — 

"Oh,  because!  'cause!  'cause!" 

CLINTON  SCOLLABD. 

Iridescent  is  their  plumage, 

Loud  their  voices,  bold  their  clamor, 

In  the  pools  and  shallows  wading; 

Or  in  overflowing  meadows 

Searching  for  the  waste  of  winter — 

Scraps  and  berries  freed  by  thawing. 

Weird  their  notes,  and  hoarse  their  croaking; 

Silent  only  when  the  night  comes. 

BOLLES.    Chocorua's  Tenants.19 

When  the  goldenrod  uplifted 

As  a  wayside  benediction 

Cheers  the  traveler  on  his  journey 

Through  the  sultry  hours  of  August, 

Deep  within  the  forest's  reaches, 

In  the  shadow  of  the  ledges, 

Gather  crows  in  friendly  concourse 

All  their  notes  are  low  and  drowsy, 
Muffled  croaks,  and  guttural  cawings, 
All  their  motions  speak  contentment, 
Tell  of  coolness,  well-fed  comfort. 

BOLLES.     Chocorua's  Tenants.19 


61 


Crow,  American 

Why  the  Crow  is  Black 

In  the  days  when  the  crow  was  as  white  as  a  swan,  he 
could  sing  more  sweetly  than  the  nightingale.  Now  all 
the  crows  are  black  because  of  a  malicious  crow  who  made 
great  mischief  by  telling  tales. 

This  crow,  a  beautiful  snow-white  bird,  lived  in  a  cage 
in  the  house  of  his  master  Phoebus.  Taught  by  Phoebus, 
he  could  counterfeit  the  speech  of  any  man,  and  he  could 
give  an  accurate  account  of  anything  he  chanced  to  see. 

Phoebus  had  a  young  wife  whom  he  dearly  loved.  One 
day  he  went  on  a  long  journey.  While  he  was  away  the 
crow  carefully  watched  his  mistress  and  listened  to  all 
that  was  said,  so  that  he  might  have  a  long  story  for  the  ears 
of  his  master.  Indeed  such  strange  stories  did  he  tell 
about  the  wife,  that  Phoebus,  who  had  a  very  hot  temper, 
became  so  angry  that  he  seized  his  bow  and  arrow  and 
killed  the  poor  woman. 

Immediately  after  doing  this  fearful  deed,  he  began  to 
think  how  much  he  had  always  loved  his  wife,  and,  as  he 
wept  over  her,  his  rage  turned  against  the  crow.  Spring- 
ing to  his  feet  he  caught  the  gossiping  bird  by  the  neck 
and  shaking  him  until  the  snow-white  feathers  fell  out, 
he  cried,  "0  false  thief,  may  you  and  your  children  for- 
evermore  be  as  black  as  the  lies  which  you  have  told. 
May  you  never,  through  all  your  life,  speak  again! 
Instead  of  your  sweet  song,  may  you  have  naught  but  a 
dismal  croak,  in  token  that  wherever  you  may  go,  always 
will  follow  the  tempest  and  the  rain!" 

Then  from  the  shelter  of  his  house  Phoebus  threw  the 
black  crow  out  into  the  wide,  wide  world. 

Adapted  from  " Canterbury  Tales." 


CUCKOO,  BLACK-BILLED 

The  cuckoos  are  among  the  first  birds  on  Mr.  Forbush's 
list  of  those  that  eat  the  caterpillars  of  the  gypsy  moth. 
....  Of  the  Black-billed 's  stomachs  examined  by  the 
Biological  Survey,  sixteen  contained  three  hundred  and 
twenty-eight  caterpillars,  and  in  addition  fifteen  grass- 
hoppers and  some  spiders. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

Strange,  reserved,  unsocial  bird, 
Flitting,  peering  'mid  the  leaves, 

Thy  lonely  call  a  twofold  word 

Repeated  like  a  soul  that  grieves, — 
"Kou-kou,"  "Kou-kou,"  a  solemn  plaint 
Now  loud  and  full,  now  far  and  faint. 


"Kou-kou,"  "Kou-kou,"  repeated  oft, 
Like  one  who  half  recalls  the  chimes 

Of  " Cuckoo/'  "Cuckoo,"  in  wood  and  croft 
Across  the  seas  in  Wordsworth's  times. 
"  Kou-kou, "  "  Kou-kou, "  a  cheerless  strain 
That  to  country  folk  forebodeth  rain. 


BURROUGHS. 


CUCKOO,  YELLOW-BILLED 

Cuckoos  have  two  toes  directed  forward  and  two  back- 
ward, but  the  cause  or  use  of  this  character  it  is  difficult 

to    understand Cuckoos    are    mysterious    birds 

well  worth  watching.     I  would  not  imply  that  their  deeds 
are  evil;  on  the  contrary,  they  are  exceedingly  beneficial 

63 


Cuckoo,  Yellow-Billed 

birds There   is   something    about    the    cuckoo's 

actions  which  always  suggests  to  me  that  he  either  has 
just  done,  or  is  about  to  do  something  he  shouldn't. 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 


The  cuckoos  might  well  be  called  caterpillar  birds,  for 
they  are  so  given  to  a  diet  of  the  hairy  caterpillars  that 
the  walls  of  their  stomachs  are  actually  permeated  with 
the  hairs,  and  a  section  of  stomach  looks  like  the  smoothly 
brushed  top  of  a  gentleman's  beaver 

MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 


Neither  cuckoo  knows  how  to  build  a  proper  home; 
a  bunch  of  sticks  dropped  carelessly  into  the  bush,  where 
the  hapless  babies  that  emerge  from  the  greenish  eggs 
will  not  have  far  to  fall  when  they  tumble  out  of  bed,  as 
they  must  inevitably  do,  may  by  courtesy  only  be  called 
a  nest. 

NELTJE  BLANCH  AN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

What  do  I  hear? 

Is  it  from  far  or  near? 

Is  it  upon  the  left  or  right, 

From  down  below  or  from  the  height, 

The  sound  of  any  living  vocal  thing? 
Or  is  it  only  the  vain  conjuring 

Of  artist  Fancy  shaping  large  and  clear 

What  dryads  hear? 

SELECTED. 

64 


• 


DUCKS 

They  are,  for  the  most  part,  northern  breeding  birds 
and  appear  on  our  waters  chiefly  as  migrants. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 

Ducks  are  by  far  the  most  beautiful  of  all  aquatic  birds 

in  the  colors  of  their  plumage Their  whistling 

flocks  that  pass  frequently  over  our  heads   at  different 
seasons  always  command  our  attention. 

FLAGG.     A  Year  With  the  Birds.26 

EAGLE,  BALD 

Because  immature  birds  reverse  nature's  order  and  are 
larger  than  adults,  and  their  plumage  undergoes  three 
changes  before  they  appear  at  the  close  of  the  third  year 
in  white  heads  and  tails,  some  early  writers  described 
the  black  eagle,  Washington's  eagle,  and  the  bald-headed 

eagle  as  three  distinct  birds It  is  safe  to  say 

that  any  eagle  seen  in  the  eastern  United  States  is  the 
bald-head. 

Emblem  of  the  Republic,  standing  for  freedom  to  enjoy 
life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness,  it  must  be  owned 
that  our   national   bird   is   a   piratical   parasite   whenever 
he  gets  the  chance. 
NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Birds  That  Hunt  and  Are  Hunted.24 

They  subsist  principally  upon  fish.  As  a  last  resort 
they  sometimes  capture  these  themselves,  but  dead  fish 
cast  upon  the  shore  are  eagerly  taken,  and  their  habit 
of  robbing  the  fish  hawk  of  his  well-earned  booty  is  too 
well  known  to  be  commented  upon. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 

65 


FINCH,  PURPLE.     PURPLE  LINNET 

His  color  is  peculiar,  and  looks  as  if  it  might  have  been 
imparted  by  dipping  a  brown  bird  in  diluted  poke-berry 
juice.  Two  or  three  more  dippings  would  have  made  the 
purple  complete. 

BURROUGHS.    Wake  Robin.5 


His  song  is  a  sweet  flowing  warble;  music  as  natural 
as  the  rippling  of  a  mountain  brook. 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 

The  caged  linnet  in  the  spring 

Hearkens  for  the  coral  glee, 
When  his  fellows  on  the  wing 

Migrate  from  the  Southern  Sea. 

EMERSON. 


FLICKER.  GOLDEN-WINGED  WOODPECKER 

The  golden-winged  is  a  woodpecker  of  thirty-six  aliases, 
among  which  pigeon-woodpecker,  yucker,  high-hole,  high- 
holder,  clape,  and  yellow-hammer  are  locally  familiar. 

A  very  ardent  and  ridiculous-looking  lover  is  this  bird, 
as,  with  tail  stiffly  spread,  he  sidles  up  to  his  desired  mate 
and  bows  and  bobs  before  her,  then  retreats  and  advances, 
bowing  and  bobbing  again,  very  often  with  a  rival  lover 
beside  him  trying  to  outdo  him  in  grace  and  general  at- 
tractiveness. 

BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 


Flicker.     Golden-Winged  Woodpecker 

A  marked  April  note,  proceeding  sometimes  from  the 
meadows,  but  more  frequently  from  the  rough  pastures 
and  borders  of  the  woods,  is  the  call  of  the  high-hole  or 

golden-shafted  woodpecker It  is  a  succession  of 

short  notes  rapidly  uttered,  as  if  the  bird  said,  "if-if-if- 
if -if -if -if . "  ....  The  high-hole  is  not  so  much  a  wood- 
pecker as  a  ground-pecker.  He  subsists  largely  on  ants 
and  crickets,  and  does  not  appear  till  they  are  to  be  found. 

BURROUGHS.     Birds  and  Poets.10 

How  that  single  sound  peoples  and  enriches  all  the 
woods  and  fields!  They  are  no  longer  the  same  fields  and 
woods  that  they  were.  This  note  really  quickens  what 
was  dead.  It  seems  to  put  life  into  the  withered  grass 
and  bare  twigs  and  henceforth  the  days  shall  not  be  as 
they  have  been.  It  is  like  the  note  of  an  alarm  clock 
set  last  fall  so  as  to  wake  nature  up  at  exactly  this  date, 
Up,  up,  up,  up,  up,  up,  up. 

THOREAU.     Spring.12 

Audubon  describes  its  song  as  "a  prolonged  jovial 
laugh."  Mrs.  Wright  gives  it  as  "Wick,  wick,  wick, 
wick,"  and  Dr.  Abbott  as  " Wake-up,  wake-up,  wake-up." 

His  call-note  is  a  vigorous  nasal  kee-yer. 


FLYCATCHER,  GREAT-CRESTED 

The  most  dignified  and  handsomely  dressed  member 
of  his  family,  the  crested  flycatcher  has,  nevertheless,  an 
air  of  pensive  melancholy  about  him  when  in  repose  that 

67 


Flycatcher,  Great-Crested 

can  be  accounted  for  only  by  the  pain  he  must  feel  every 
time  he  hears  himself  screech. 

NELTJE  BLANCH  AN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 


His  call,  like  an  exclamation  rings  out  above  all  other 
birds'  notes.  What!  he  seems  to  say,  and,  as  though 
hearing  something  which  not  only  surprised  but  amused 
him,  follows  this  call  with  a  chuckling  whistle. 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 

An  unexplained  and  not  very  winsome  peculiarity  of 
this  bird  is,  that  almost  invariably  its  nest  is,  in  part, 
composed  of  cast-off  snake  skins;  doubtless  for  a  good 
reason. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

Hardy  and  pugnacious,  Colonel  Goss  says  they  fight 
fiercely  for  their  mates,  and  have  a  habit  of  plucking  the 
tail  feathers  of  their  rivals  to  disfigure  them  in  the  eyes 
of  their  lady  loves. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

Late  in  May  he  makes  his  nesting, 
Seeks  a  deep  and  darksome  hollow 
In  the  orchard's  oldest  tree-trunk, 
Lines  it  well  with  matted  cow's  hair 
Grasses,  feathers,  bits  of  wasps'  nest, 
Slender  roots,  or  silky  fibres, 
Here  and  there  a  scrap  of  paper, 
Shred  of  bark,  or  seed  of  thistle. 


Flycatcher,  Great-Crested 


Odder  things  than  these  he  uses, — 
Things  for  something  else  than  comfort; 
Sometimes  to  the  general  tangle 
He  will  add  a  tail  of  chipmunk, 
Sometimes  fish  scales,  iridescent, 
Mingle  in  the  mystic  chaos, 
But  his  chiefly  favored  fetish 
Is  a  piece  of  cast-off  snake  skin. 


BOLLES.     Chocorua's  Tenants.19 


FLYCATCHER,  OLIVE-SIDED 

The  short  necks  of  the  flycatchers  make  their  heads 
appear  large  for  their  bodies,  a  peculiarity  slightly  em- 
phasized in  this  member  of  the  family A 

sharp,  loud  whistle,  when-o-when-o-when-o,  rings  out  from 
the  throat  of  this  olive-sided  tyrant,  warning  all  intruders 
off  the  premises;  but  however  harshly  he  may  treat  the 
rest  of  the  feathered  world,  he  has  only  gentle  devotion 
to  offer  his  brooding  mate. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 


GEESE,  WILD 

We  cannot  well  afford  not  to  see  the  geese  go  over  a 
single  spring,  and  so  commence  our  year  regularly. 

THOREAU.     Spring.12 


Geese,  Wild 

Geese  sometimes  fly  in  a  straight  line;  but  more  fre- 
quently make  a  triangular  figure,  that  permits  each  one 
....  to  see  its  leader.  Some  naturalists  say  that 
geese  fly  to  a  greater  height  than  any  other  bird;  others 
say  they  are  surpassed  by  herons.  They  are  often,  how- 
ever, at  so  great  height  that  they  may  be  heard,  when 
nothing  more  of  them  than  a  black  line  can  be  seen. 

FLAGG.    A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 


I  suspect  it  will  be  found  there  is  really  some  advantage 
in  large  birds  of  passage  flying  in  the  wedge  form  and 
cleaving  their  way  through  the  air, — that  they  really  do 
overcome  its  resistance  best  in  this  way,  and  perchance 
the  direction  and  strength  of  the  wind  determine  the 
comparative  length  of  the  two  sides. 

THOREAU.     Spring.12 

Far  and  high  the  wild  geese  cry, 

"Spring!  It  is  spring!"  CELIA  THAXTER. 

Cloud-clearing  geese  to  the  lakes  are  a-steering. 

SELECTED. 

GOLDFINCH.  WILD  CANARY.  THISTLE-BIRD 

As  pretty  a  sight  as  any  garden  offers  is  when  a  family 
of  goldfinches  alights  on  the  top  of  a  sunflower  to  feast 
upon  the  oily  seeds — a  perfect  harmony  of  brown  and 
gold. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.    Bird  Neighbors.23 

70 


Goldfinch.     Wild  Canary.     Thistle-Bird 

His  gentle  ways  and  sweet  disposition  are  never-failing 
antidotes  for  discontent.  One  cannot  be  long  near  a 
flock  of  these  birds  without  being  impressed  by  the  refine- 
ment which  seems  to  mark  their  every  note  and  action. 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 

Among  the  commonest  sounds  in  the  country  in  late 
summer  are  the  clusters  of  notes  from  the  goldfinch  in 
its  wavy  flight  far  overhead,  one  cluster  in  each  undula- 
tion, and — to  be  precise — synchronizing  with  its  wing- 
vibrations,  which  occur  in  the  last  or  rising  half  of  each 
wave. 

PARKHURST.    The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

Just  listen  to  him  some  day  as  he  flies  away  from  his 
nest,  singing  over  to  himself  in  tones  of  exquisite  love  and 
tenderness  his  sweet  bay-bee,  bay-ee-bee. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 

Their  flight  is  expressive  of  their  joyous  nature,  and 
as  they  bound  through  the  air  they  hum  a  gay  per-chic-o- 
ree,  per-chic-o-ree. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 

Why  this  brief  vision  of  golden  filigree  that  seems 
suddenly  flung  across  my  fancy?  What  is  the  talisman? 
"I've  cheated  ye,  per  chick  o  pee,  per  chick  o  pee."  What 
but  the  tiny  goldfinch  that  has  passed  overhead  in  its 
looping  flight,  festooning  the  ether  in  glowing  drapery  of 
black  and  gold,  each  embroidered  loop  pinned  with  a 
wisp  of  song. 

GIBSON.    Strolls  by  Starlight  and  Sunshine.33 

71 


Goldfinch.     Wild  Canary.     Thistle-Bird 

These  birds  do  not  shed  their  feathers  in  the  spring, 
as  careless  observers  are  apt  to  think  they  do,  but  merely 
shed  the  outer  webs  of  their  feathers  and  quills,  which 
peel  off  like  a  glove  from  the  hand. 

BURROUGHS.    Riverby.11 

A  sweet-voiced  goldfinch  singing  his  soul  away. 

OLIVE  THORNE  MILLER. 

The  goldfinch  round  the  linden  winds  his  song. 

LUCY  LARCOM. 

GROSBEAK,  PINE 

At  irregular  intervals  pine  grosbeaks  become  abundant 
during  the  winter  in  New  England,  when,  because  of  their 
size,  they  attract  general  attention.  They  usually  resort 
to  coniferous  trees  upon  the  seeds  of  which  they  feed, 
but  they  also  eat  berries  and  buds,  and  are  said  to  be 
especially  fond  of  the  fruit  of  the  staghorn  sumach. 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 

The  sight  of   a  flock  of  these   handsome,    rosy-coated 
birds  clustering  around  the  cones  of  an  evergreen  is    a 
picture  to   brighten  many   a  dull  day.   .....     They 

are  gentle  birds,  whose  knowledge  of  man  is  so  limited 
that  they  have  no  fear  of  him,  and  will  often  let  them- 
selves be  taken  in  the  hand. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

72 


GROSBEAK,  ROSE-BREASTED 

His  back  is  disproportionately  large  and  heavy,  like  a 
huge  nose,  which  slightly  mars  his  good  looks;  but  Nature 
has  made  it  up  to  him  in  a  blush  rose  upon  his  breast, 
and  the  most  delicate  of  pink  linings  to  the  under  side 
of  his  wings. 

BURROUGHS.     Wake  Robin.6 


The  farmers  in  Pennsylvania,  who,  with  more  truth 
than  poetry,  call  this  the  potato-bug  bird,  are  taking 
active  measures  to  protect  the  neighbor  that  is  more  useful 
to  their  crops  than  all  the  insecticides  known. 

NELTJE  BLANCH  AN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 


Listen  to  the  overflowing  measure  of  its  melody!  How 
comparatively  few  the  notes,  and  yet  how  telling!  No 
single  tone  lost,  no  superficial  intricacies.  Sensuous,  and 
suffused  with  color,  it  is  like  a  rich,  pulpy,  luscious,  pink- 
cheeked  tropic  fruit  rendered  into  sound. 

GIBSON.     Strolls  by  Starlight  and  Sunshine.33 


There  is  an  exquisite  purity  in  the  joyous  carol  of  the 
grosbeak;  his  song  tells  of  all  the  gladness  of  a  May  morn- 
ing; I  have  heard  few  happier  strains  of  bird  music.  With 
those  who  are  deaf  to  its  message  of  good  cheer  I  can  only 
sympathize,  pitying  the  man  whose  heart  does  not  leap 
with  enthusiasm  at  the  sight  of  rival  males  dashing  through 
the  woods  like  winged  meteors,  leaving  in  their  wake  a 
train  of  sparkling  notes. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 


73 


Grosbeak,  Rose-Breasted 

In  addition  to  his  song,  the  rose-breast  has  a  short  call- 
note,  which  sounds  very  much  like  the  squeak  of  a  pair 
of  rusty  shears. 

TORREY.     Every  Day  Birds.18 

GULL,  AMERICAN  HERRING 

High  in  the  air,  their  pure  white  pinions  clearly  outlined 
against  the  deep  blue,  you  can  often  see  the  gulls  .... 

that    are    found    along    the    coast The    pearly 

mantle  that  covers  the  back  can  only  be  seen  as  it  now 
and  then  skims  the  surface  of  the  water,  or  rests  awhile 
on  the  waves  from  which  it  gathers  its  food.  But  the 
air  seems  their  native  element  ....  and  in  the  grand 
sweep  of  their  wings  and  in  their  slow  and  majestic  progress 
they  give  to  the  beholder  the  sense  of  rest  rather  than 
weariness. 

PARKHURST.    The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

The  gull  is  distinguished  by  its  small  and  lean  body 
which  is  covered  with  a  great  quantity  of  feathers.  Its 
wings  and  head  are  very  large,  all  uniting  to  give  the  bird 
a  false  appearance  of  size.  Hence,  I  suppose,  originated 
the  word,  when  used  to  imply  deception.  The  sportsman 
who  for  the  first  time  has  shot  one  of  these  birds,  expecting 
to  find  it  large  and  plump,  ....  is  said  to  be  gulled. 

FLAGG.    A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 
HAWKS 

The  red-shouldered  and  the  red-tailed  hawks  are  the 
birds  to  which  the  names  chicken  hawk  and  hen  hawk 

74 


Hawks 


are  most  frequently  misapplied.  Being  both  common 
species  whose  habits  render  them  easily  observed,  they 
are  often  unjustly  made  to  suffer  for  the  sins  of  their  bird- 
killing  relatives  of  the  genus  Accipiter  [sharp-shinned  and 
Cooper's  hawk]. 

CHAPMAN.    Handbook  of  Birds.21 

It  can  be  readily  proved  that  it  [the  red-tailed  hawk 
is  far  more  beneficial  than  otherwise,  and  really  deserves 
protection,  instead  of  having  a  bounty  placed  on  its  head, 

as   has   been   the   case   in   several   states Of 

two  hundred  and  twenty  stomachs  of  the  red-shouldered 
hawk  examined  ....  only  three  contained  remains  of 

poultry So  long  as  there  is  a  grasshopper  or  a 

meadow  mouse  to  eat,  the  sparrow  hawk  will  let  feathered 
prey  alone;  but  these  failing,  it  is  a  past-master  in  dropping 
like  a  thunder-bolt  upon  ....  small  birds  found  on 
the  ground  in  thickets  and  the  borders  of  woods.  But 
it  does  not  eat  the  farmer's  broilers:  the  little  sharp- 
shinned  and  the  Cooper's  hawk  attend  to  them. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Birds  That  Hunt  and  Are  Hunted.24 

Saw  a  large  hawk  circling  over  a  pine  wood 

Traveling  ever  by  wider  circles,  what  a  symbol  of  the 
thoughts;  now  soaring,  now  descending,  taking  larger  and 
larger  circles,  or  smaller  and  smaller.  It  flies  not  directly 
whither  it  is  bound,  but  advances  by  circles,  like  a  courtier 

of  the   skies The   poetry    of    motion,    not    as 

preferring  one  place  to  another,  but  enjoying  each  as 
long  as  possible,  most  gracefully  thus  surveying  new  scenes, 
and  revisiting  the  old. 

THOREAU.    Autumn.14 

75 


Hawks 

Silently  overhead  the  hen-hawk  sails 

With  watchful  measuring  eye,  and  for  his  quarry  waits. 

LOWELL. 

HERONS 

The  heron  is  the  impersonation  of  gloom,  silence    arid 
solitude. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 


No  family  of  birds  is  possessed  of  more  of  those  qualities 
which   are   especially   regarded   as   picturesque   than    the 

herons Their    flying    attitude,      however,     is 

uncouth,  with  their  necks  bent  backwards,  their  heads 
resting  against  their  shoulders,  and  their  long  legs  stretched 
out  behind  them  in  the  most  awkward  manner. 

FLAGG.     A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 


HUMMING  BIRD,  RUBY-THROATED 

The  most  exquisite  gem  in  all  the  galaxy.  An  admirable 
creation  from  almost  every  point  of  view — as  delicate  as 
the  cobweb  that  can  cause  its  death,  of  such  emotional 
intensity  that  even  terror  alone  may  quench  its  life,  of 
ethereal  mould  and  resplendent  color,  this  tropical  atom, 
is,  notwithstanding,  lion-hearted  to  attack  even  a  man 
in  defence  of  its  nest.  Valor  and  grace  ne'er  found  a 
more  unique  companionship. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 
76 


Humming  Bird,  Ruby-Throated 

It    seems    like    the    winged    spirit   of  color    ....  its 
body  like  green  beryl  and  its  throat  glancing  fire. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 

The  nest  is  the  most  exquisite  of  all  the  beautiful  struc- 
tures of  winged  architects. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

The  nest  contained  two  eggs  about  the  size  of  a  pea-bean. 
FLAGG.     A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 


The  ruby-throat  feeds  on  insects  as  well  as  on  the  juices 
of  flowers,  and  when  you  see  him  probing  a  corolla  he  is 
quite  as  likely  to  be  after  the  one  as  the  other. 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 

At  evening  one  often  hears  of  a  "humming  bird"  going 
the  rounds  of  the  garden,  but  at  this  hour  it  is  usually 
the  sphinx-moth  hovering  about  the  flower-beds — the  one 
other  creature  besides  the  bee  for  which  the  bird  is  ever 
mistaken.  The  postures  and  preferences  of  this  beautiful 
large  moth  make  the  mistake  a  very  natural  one. 

NELTJE  BLANCH  AN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

The  humming  bird,  with  busy  wing, 
In  rainbow  beauty  moves. 

SELECTED. 

77 


Humming  Bird,  Ruby-Throated 

With  dizzy  wings  and  dainty  craft, 

In  green  and  gold,  the  humming-bird 
Dashed  here  and  there,  and  touched  and  quaffed 

The  honey-dew,  then  flashed  and  whirred, 
And  vanished  like  a  feathered  shaft 

That  glitters  from  a  random  bow. 

J.  G.  HOLLAND. 

Minutest  of  the  feathered  kind, 
Possessing  every  charm  combined, 
Nature,  in  forming  thee,  design'd 

That  thou  should 'st  be 
A  proof  within  how  little  space 
She  can  confine  such  perfect  grace, 
Rendering  thy  lovely  fairy  race 

Beauty's  epitome. 
Thy  burnished  colors  to  bestow, 
Her  pencil  in  the  heavenly  bow 
She  dipp'd  and  made  thy  plumes  to  glow 

With  every  hue.  SELECTED. 

INDIGO  BIRD.    INDIGO  BUNTING 

I  well  remember  watching  one  indigo-bird  who,  day 
after  day,  used  to  fly  to  the  lowest  limb  of  a  high  tree  and 
sing  his  way  up  from  branch  to  branch,  bursting  into 
jubilant  song  when  he  reached  the  topmost  bough.  I 
watched  him  climb  as  high  into  the  air  as  he  could,  when, 
against  a  background  of  blue  sky  and  rolling  white  clouds, 
the  blessed  little  songster  broke  out  into  the  blithest  round 
that  ever  bubbled  up  from  a  glad  heart. 
FLOKENCE  A.  MERRIAM.  Chapman's  Handbook  of  Birds.21 

78 


Indigo  Bird.     Indigo  Bunting 

The  "glowing  indigo"  of  this  tropical-looking  visitor 
often  seems  the  more  intense  by  comparison  with  the 
blue  sky,  against  which  it  stands  out  in  relief  as  the  bird 

perches  singing  in  a  tree-top The  noon-day  heat 

of  an  August  day  that  silences  nearly  every  other  voice, 
seems  to  give  to  the  indigo-bird's  only  fresh  animation. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 


JAY,  BLUE 

No  bird  of  finer  color  or  presence  sojourns  with  us  the 
year  round  than  the  blue  jay.  In  a  peculiar  sense  his 
is  a  case  of  " beauty  covering  a  multitude  of  sins."  .... 
Dishonest,  cruel,  inquisitive,  murderous,  voracious,  villain- 
ous, are  some  of  the  epithets  applied  to  this  bird  of  exquisite 
plumage.  Emerson,  however,  has  said  in  his  defence  he 
does  "more  good  than  harm,"  alluding,  no  doubt,  to  his 
habit  of  burying  nuts  and  hard  seeds  in  the  ground,  so 
that  many  a  waste  place  is  clothed  with  trees  and  shrubs, 
thanks  to  his  propensity  and  industry. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

What  a  handsome  bird!  ....  Not  a  hint  of  winter 
in  his  coloring!  Note  his  purplish  back  as  he  bends  over, 
the  exquisite  cobalt  blue,  touched  off  with  black  and 
white  on  his  wings,  and  the  black  barring  on  the  tightly 
closed  tail  he  is  bracing  himself  by.  How  distinguished 
his  dark  necklace  and  handsome  blue  crest  make  him 
look! 

FLORENCE  A.  MEERIAM.     Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 

79 


Blue  Jay 


The  blue  jay  is  a  true  American.     He  is  known  through- 
out the  continent,  and  never  visits  any  other  country. 

FLAGG.     A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 


The  jay  is  a  relative  of  the  crow,  and  has  much  of  the 
crow's  cleverness. 

TORREY.     Every  Day  Birds.18 

The  blue  jay  is  both  a  mimic  and  a  ventriloquist.  Be- 
sides an  inexhaustible  stock  of  whistles  and  calls  of  his 
own,  he  imitates  the  notes  of  other  species,  notably  those 
of  the  ....  hawks. 

The  blue  jay,  I  fear,  is  a  reprobate,  but  ....  there 
is  a  dashing  reckless  air  about  him  which  makes  us  pardon 
his  faults  and  like  him  in  spite  of  ourselves. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 


I  am  always  glad  to  hear  his  hearty  call  through  the 
autumn  woods;  and  the  occasional  sweet  flute-like  note 
he  utters  is  one  of  the  richest  of  our  bird-notes, — a  whole 
bird-concert  squeezed  into  a  single  note  that  comes  rolling 
down  the  narrow  pathway  through  the  woods. 

ABBOTT.     Birds  About  Us.27 


At  times  I  have  heard  this  bird  utter  a  few  notes  like 
the  tinkling  of  a  bell,  and  which,  if  syllabled,  might  form 
such  a  word  as  dilly-lily. 

FLAGG.    A  Year  With  the  Birds.35 
80 


Blue  Jay 


His  saucy  crest  seems  to  be  kept  in  place  by  a  band 
of  black  velvet  ribbon  passing  under  the  chin. 

SELECTED. 


The  blue  jay  blows  the  trumpet  of  winter. 

THOREAU.     Spring.12 


The  noisy  jay  comes  with  its  startling  cry, 
'Mid  yellow  leaves  of  maple  takes  its  perch; 

A  bit  of  blue  in  gold,  as  if  the  sky 
Were  seen  in  patches  through  the  faded  birch. 

SELECTED. 


Clad  in  blue  with  snow-white  trimmings, 
Clean  and  smooth  in  every  feather, 
Plumed  and  crested  like  a  dandy, 
Keen  of  vision,  strong  of  muscle, 
Shrewd  in  mimicry  and  dodging, 
Knowing  every  copse  and  thicket, 
Warm  in  snow  and  cool  in  summer, 
Is  the  blue  jay  still  a  villain? 
Outlawed  by  all  bird  tribunals, 
As  a  wretch  disguised,  he's  branded, 
Shunned  by  every  feathered  creature; 
Yet  he  prospers,  man  admires  him. 

BOLLES.     Chocorua's  Tenants.19 


81 


The  Blue  Jay 

O  Blue  Jay,  up  in  the  maple  tree, 

Shaking  your  throat  with  such  bursts  of  glee, 

How  did  you  happen  to  be  so  blue? 
Did  you  steal  a  bit  of  the  lake  for  your  crest, 
And  fasten  blue  violets  into  your  vest? 

Tell  me,  I  pray  you,  tell  me  true! 

Did  you  dip  your  wings  into  azure  dye, 
When  April  began  to  paint  the  sky, 

That  was  pale  with  the  winter's  stay? 
Or  were  you  hatched  from  a  bluebell  bright, 
'Neath  the  warm  gold  breast  of  a  sunbeam  bright, 

By  the  river,  one  blue  spring  day? 

0  Blue  Jay,  up  in  the  maple  tree, 
A-tossing  your  saucy  head  at  me, 

With  ne'er  a  word  at  my  questioning, 
Pray  cease  for  a  moment  your  "  tink-a-link, " 
And  hear  when  I  tell  you  what  I  think, 

You  bonniest  bit  of  spring. 

1  think  when  the  fairies  made  the  flowers 
To  grow  in  these  merry  fields  of  ours, 

Periwinkles  and  voilets  rare, 
There  was  left  of  the  spring's  own  color,  blue, 
Plenty  to  fashion  a  flower  whose  hue 

Would  be  richer  than  all  and  as  fair. 

So  putting  their  wits  together,  they 
Made  one  great  blossom  so  bright  and  gay 

The  lily  beside  it  seemed  blurred, 
And  then  they  said,  "  We'll  toss  it  in  air. 
So  many  blue  blossoms  grow  everywhere, 
Let  this  pretty  one  be  a  bird!" 

SELECTED. 
82 


JUNCO.    SLATE-COLORED  SNOWBIRD 

Modest  in  manner  and  attire,  there  is  nothing  of  especial 
interest  in  the  junco's  habits,  and  only  bird-lovers  can 
understand  what  a  difference  his  presence  makes  in 
winter  landscape.  It  brings  a  sense  of  companionship; 
it  is  a  link  between  us  and  Nature.  The  bird's  cheery 
twitter  is  as  welcome  as  a  ray  of  sunlight  on  a  cloudy 
day. 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 

His  suit  of  slaty  gray,  with  its  low-cut  vest  of  white, 
is  not  worn  by  any  other  of  our  birds;  and  while  some 
species  show  white  outer  tail-feathers  in  flight,  the  junco's 
seem  to  be  more  than  usually  conspicuous. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 

Little  gray-robed  monks  and  nuns. 
FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 

Reflecting  the  leaden  skies  above  and  the  snow  below. 
PARKHTJRST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

KINGBIRD.     BEE-MARTIN 

He  is  sometimes  called  the  tyrant,  but  the  name  is  a 
libel.  The  kingbird  is  a  fighter,  but  he  is  not  a  bully, 
and  gives  battle  only  in  a  just  cause.  His  particular 
enemy  is  the  crow,  and  during  the  nesting  season  each 
kingbird  evidently  draws  an  imaginary  circle  about  his 
home  within  which  no  crow  can  venture  unchallenged. 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 
83 


Kingb  ird .     Bee-Martin 

It  has  an  interesting  and  unusual  method  of  bathing. 
Instead  of  standing  in  shallow  water  and  dipping  itself 
like  other  birds,  it  flies  from  its  perch  directly  into  the 
stream,  dashing  the  water  over  its  back,  returning  to  its 
place  and  repeating  the  performance  several  times. 

PARKHURST.    The  Birds'  Calendar.31 


Every  country  boy  has  laughed  to  see  the  kingbird 
chasing  a  crow.  And  a  very  lively  and  pleasing  sight  it 
is;  the  crow  making  for  the  nearest  wood  as  fast  as  his 
wings  will  carry  him,  and  one  or  two  kingbirds  in  hot 
pursuit.  Their  great  aim  is  to  get  above  him  and  swoop 
down  upon  his  back.  Sometimes  you  see  one  actually 
alight  upon  a  crow's  back  and,  as  boys  say,  "give  it  to 
him"  in  great  style. 

Another  taking  action  of  the  kingbird  is  his  trick  of 
flying  straight  up  in  the  air,  almost  perpendicularly,  as 
if  he  were  trying  to  see  how  near  he  could  come  to  per- 
forming that  impossible  feat,  and  then  tumbling  about 
madly,  with  noisy  outcries.  Often  it  looks  as  if  he  actually 
turned  somersaults.  He  cannot  sing  and  so  has  to  let 
his  high  spirits  bubble  over  in  these  half-crazy  gymnastics. 

TORREY.     Every  Day  Birds.18 


He  will  often  be  seen  hovering  over  a  weed  in  a  meadow, 
his  fluttering  wings  supporting  him  so  well  that  he  seems 
to  be  hanging  in  air. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 
84 


Kingbird.     Bee-Martin 

Bee-keepers  accuse  the  kingbird  of  a  taste  for  honey- 
bees, but  examination  shows  that  the  charge  is  unfounded. 
Only  fourteen  out  of  two  hundred  and  eighteen  stomachs 
contained  remains  of  bees,  most  of  which  were  drones, 
while  sixty  per  cent,  of  the  kingbird's  food  was  found 
to  consist  of  injurious  insects. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 


KINGFISHER,  BELTED 

This  bird  is  the  celebrated  Halcyon  of  the  ancients, 
who  attributed  to  it  supernatural  powers.  It  was  supposed 
to  construct  its  nest  upon  the  waves,  where  it  was  made 
to  float  like  a  vessel  at  anchor.  But  as  the  turbulence 
of  the  storm  would  be  likely  to  destroy  it,  Nature  has 
gifted  the  sitting  birds  with  the  power  of  stilling  the  motion 
of  the  winds  and  waves  during  the  period  of  incubation. 
The  serene  weather  that  accompanies  the  summer  solstice 
was  believed  to  be  the  enchanted  effect  of  the  benign 
influence  of  this  family  of  birds.  Hence  the  name  Halcyon 

days  was  applied  to  this  period  of  tranquillity 

Some  of  the  Asiatic  nations  still  wear  the  skin  of  the  king- 
fisher about  their  persons  as  a  protection  against  moral 
and  physical  evils.  The  feathers  are  used  as  love-charms; 
and  it  is  believed  if  the  body  of  a  kingfisher  be  evenly 
fixed  upon  a  pivot,  it  will  turn  its  head  to  the  north  like 
the  magnetic  needle. 

FLAGG.    A  Year  With  the  Birds.26 


85 


Kingfisher,  Belted 

He  is  the  most  marked  of  the  trillers,  having  a  loud, 
rapid  call  that  Wilson  compares  to  a  watchman's  rattle, 
and  that,  as  Mr.  Burroughs  ingeniously  suggests,  reminds 
you  of  an  alarm  clock. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 


The  kingfisher  is  singularly  grotesque  in  his  appearance, 
though  not  without  beauty  of  plumage. 

FLAGG.    A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 


Though  the  king  of  fishermen,  this  sensible  bird  does 
not  restrict  himself  to  a  diet  of  fish.  In  the  east,  if  oppor- 
tunity offers,  he  eats  crustaceans,  grasshoppers,  crickets, 
and  beetles  of  the  June  bug  family. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of 'Village  and  Field.1 


Among  the  negroes  in  the  south  it  is  believed  that  if,  in 
childhood,  you  go  to  the  river  at  sunrise  and  see  the  min- 
nows before  the  kingfisher  does  you  will  never  die  unless 
you  are  drowned,  and  that  if  you  are  drowned  the  king- 
fisher will  carry  your  spirit  directly  to  heaven. 


Men  say  thy  back  received  its  coat  of  blue, 

From  skies  unclouded  when  the  Flood  was  done, 

Then  caught  thy  breast  its  gorgeous  tawny  hue 
In  that  long  flight  toward  the  setting  sun. 

SELECTED. 


86 


KINGLET,  GOLDEN-CROWNED 

Muffled  in  its  thick  coat  of  feathers,  the  diminutive 
goldcrest  braves  our  severest  winters,  living  evidence  that, 
given  an  abundance  of  food,  temperature  is  a  secondary 
factor  in  a  bird's  existence. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 


He   radiates    an   atmosphere   of   friendliness    and   good 
cheer  which  must  be  evident  to  any  attentive  observer. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 


The  nest  is  said  to  be  extraordinarily  large  for  so  small 
a  bird;  but  that  need  not  surprise  us  when  we  learn  that 
as  many  as  ten  creamy-white  eggs  ....  is  no  un- 
common number  for  the  pensile  cradle  to  hold.  How  do 
the  tiny  parents  contrive  to  cover  so  many  eggs  and  to 
feed  such  a  nestful  of  fledglings? 

NELTJE  BLANCH  AN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 


KINGLET,  RUBY-CROWNED 

They  seem  to  be  the  feathered  expression  of  perpetual 
motion.  And  how  dainty  and  charming  these  dainty 
sprites  are!  They  are  not  at  all  shy;  you  may  approach 
them  quite  close  if  you  will,  for  the  birds  are  simply  too 
intent  on  their  business  to  be  concerned  with  yours. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 
87 


Kinglet,  Ruby-Crowned 

The  May  morning  when  first  I  heard  this  kinglet's  song 
is  among  the  most  memorable  of  my  early  ornithological 

experiences The  song  was  mellow  and  flute-like, 

and  loud  enough  to  be  heard  several  hundred  yards;  an 
intricate  warble  past  imitation  or  description,  and  rendered 
so  admirably  that  I  never  hear  it  now  without  an  impulse 
to  applaud.  The  bird  is  so  small,  the  song  so  rich  and 
full,  that  one  is  reminded  of  a  chorister  with  the  voice 
of  an  adult  soprano.  To  extend  the  comparison,  one 
watches  this  gifted  but  unconscious  musician  flitting  about 
the  trees  with  somewhat  the  feeling  that  one  observes 
the  choir-boy  doffing  his  surplice  and  joining  his  com- 
rades for  a  game  of  tag. 

CHAPMAN.    Handbook  of  Birds.21 

He  is  fairly  to  be  esteemed  a  musical  prodigy. 

TORREY.     Every  Day  Birds.18 

LARK,  HORNED 

In  America,  the  horned  larks  are  alone  in  the  family 
of  which  the  famous  skylark  is  one  of  the  European  mem- 
bers. While  their  song  is  wholly  unpretentious,  it  is 
quaint  and  attractive,  and  is  often  given  as  the  bird  springs 
from  the  ground  toward  the  sky,  quite  in  the  manner 
of  the  skylark. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

In  Greenland  and  Labrador,  its  summer  home,  it  is  a 
conspicuously  handsome  bird  with  its  pinkish-gray  and 
chocolate  feathers,  that  have  greatly  faded  into  dull-browns 
when  we  see  them  in  the  late  autumn. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

88 


LOON,  BLACK-THROATED 

One  of  the  most  romantic  of  birds,  the  Hermit  of  our 
northern  lakes,  and  so  exceedingly  shy  that  it  is  rarely 
seen  except  at  a  distance. 

FLAGG.    A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 


Far  out  at  sea  in  winter  ....  I  have  oftenjj  heard 
on  a  fine  calm  morning  the  sad  and  wolfish  call  of  the 
solitary  loon,  which  like  a  dismal  echo  seems  slowly  to 
invade  the  ear  and,  rising  as  it  proceeds,  dies  away  in 
the  air.  This  boding  sound  to  the  mariner,  supposed  to 
be  indicative  of  a  storm,  may  be  heard  sometimes  for  two 
or  three  miles,  when  the  bird  itself  is  invisible  or  reduced 
almost  to  a  speck  in  the  distance.  The  aborigines, 
almost  as  superstitious  as  sailors,  dislike  to  hear  the  cry 
of  the  loon,  considering  the  bird,  from  its  shy  and  extra- 
ordinary habits  as  a  sort  of  supernatural  being.  By  the 
Norwegians  it  is  with  more  appearance  of  reason  supposed 
to  portend  rain. 

Nuttall's  Ornithology.26 


"  He  has  also  another  rather  soft  and  pleasing  utterance, 
sounding  like  who-who-who-who,  the  syllables  being  so 
rapidly  pronounced  as  to  sound  almost  like  a  shake  of 
the  voice — a  sort  of  weird  laughter."  To  this  Longfellow 
refers  in  his  "  Birds  of  Passage. " 


The  loon  that  laughs  and  flies 

Down  to  those  reflected  skies. 


89 


Legend  of  the  Loon 

There  is  an  old  story,  one  which  certainly  has  the  appear- 
ance of  truth,  to  the  effect  that  when  Nature  manufactured 
the  first  loon  she  forgot  to  give  him  any  legs  at  all,  and  that 
he  had  started  off  on  the  wing  before  she  noticed  her  mis- 
take. Then  she  picked  up  the  first  pair  that  came  to  hand 
and  threw  them  after  him.  Unfortunately  they  were  a 
misfit;  and,  what  was  perhaps  still  worse,  they  struck  his 
body  in  the  wrong  place.  They  were  not  only  too  short, 
but  they  were  so  far  aft  that,  although  he  could  stand  al- 
most as  straight  as  a  man,  and  could  swim  like  a  fish,  it 
was  almost  impossible  for  him  to  walk.  When  he  had  to 
travel  on  land,  which  he  always  avoided  as  far  as  he  could, 
he  generally  shoved  himself  along  on  his  breast,  and  often 
used  his  wings  and  bill  to  help  himself  forward.  All  his 
descendants  are  just  like  him. 

WILLIAM  DAVENPORT  HULBERT. 


MARTIN,  PURPLE 

The  purple  martin  is  very  common  throughout  the 
south In  the  northern  states  it  is  a  compara- 
tively rare  bird  of  local  distribution  and  is  apparently 
decreasing  in  numbers  each  year. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 


The  martin  originally  built  in  hollows  of  trees,  as  the 
white-bellied  swallow  still  does,  but  is  now  seldom  if  ever 
known  to  nest  except  in  artificial  receptacles. 

STEARNS.     New  England  Bird  Life.30 


90 


Martin,  Purple 

The  services  of  the  martin  in  driving  away  hawks  and 
crows  from  the  premises  he  claims  are  important  induce- 
ments for  favor.  He  has  even  the  courage  to  attack  the 
redoubtable  kingbird,  when  his  visits  are  too  familiar 
near  the  nest. 

Nuttall's  Ornithology.21 


Wasps,  beetles,  and  all  manner  of  injurious  garden 
insects  constitute  its  diet — another  reason  for  its  universal 
popularity. 

It  is  simple  enough  to  distinguish  the  martins  from 
the  other  swallows  by  their  larger  size  and  iridescent  dark 
coat,  not  to  mention  their  song,  which  is  very  soft  and 
sweet,  like  musical  laughter,  rippling  up  through  the 
throat. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.28 


Surpassed  by  no  bird  in  swiftness,  there  is  none  that 
equals  him  in  the  beauty  of  his  movements  on  the  wing, 
uniting  grace  and  vivacity  in  a  remarkable  degree.  Often 
skimming  the  surface  of  ponds,  or  gliding  swiftly  along 
a  public  road  a  few  feet  from  the  ground,  then  soaring 
above  the  height  of  the  lower  clouds,  he  sails  about  with 
but  little  motion  of  the  wings,  till  he  is  out  of  sight.  These 
flights  seem  to  be  made  for  his  own  amusement;  for  it 
cannot  be  supposed  that  he  finds  the  larger  insects  that 
constitute  his  prey  at  so  great  a  height. 

FLAGG.     A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 


MEADOWLARK 

To  many  the  meadowlark  is  "only  a  voice."  His  back 
is  so  nearly  the  color  of  the  meadow,  it  takes  a  keen  eye 
indeed  to  discover  him.  His  beauty — a  golden-yellow 
vest  adorned  with  a  necklace  of  richest  jet — is  reserved 
for  his  mate. 

The  bobolink's  mood  is  one  of  care-free  happiness;  the 
meadow-lark's  suggests  the  fervent  joy  that  is  akin  to 
pain. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

I  see  a  lark  flashing  his  white  tail  and  showing  his  hand- 
some yellow  breast  with  its  black  crescent  like  an  Indian 
locket. 

THOREAU.     Summer.18 

His  flight  is  very  characteristic,  consisting  of  a  few 
rapid  movements  and  then  a  long  sail.  Shelley's  lines, 
though  written  of  another  bird,  fit  him  to  perfection: 

In  the  golden  lightning 

Of  the  sunken  sun, 
O'er  which  clouds  are  brightening 

Thou  dost  float  and  run. 

M.  A.  WILLCOX.    The  Common  Land  Birds  of  New  England.29 

What  a  twang  there  is  about  this  bird  and  what  vigor! 
It  smacks  of  the  soil.  It  is  the  winged  embodiment  of 
the  spirit  of  our  spring  meadows.  What  emphasis  in 
its  "z-d-t,  z-d-t,"  and  what  character  in  its  long  piercing 

92 


Meadowlark 

note!     Its  straight,  tapering,  sharp  bill  is  typical  of  its 

voice "Spring    o'  the    year!     spring    o'     the 

year!"  it  says,  with  a  long-drawn  breath,  a  little  plaintive, 
but  not  complaining  or  melancholy. 

BURROUGHS.     Birds   and  Poets.10 

Great  tenderness,  almost  pathos,  is  expressed  in  the 
liquid  sympathetic  voice  of  these  faithful  creatures. 

STEARNS.    New  England  Bird  Life.31 

A  piercing  shaft  of  song  which  seems  to  cleave  the  air 
straight  from  the  hillside  meadow  beyond-"  I  see;  I  see 
you. " 

GIBSON.     Strolls  by  Starlight  and  Sunshine.33 

Nuttall  gives  it  as  "et-se-de*e-ah. " 

Oh  meadow  lark! 
From  dawn  to  dark 

Your  carol  quaint  is  ringing, 
And  ne'er  did  float  from  thrush's  throat, 
Song  sweeter  than  your  simple  note, 

Of  sunny  summer  singing. 

SELECTED. 

NIGHTHAWK 

The  only  exceptions  that  can  be  taken  to  the  name 
are  that  it  is  not  a  "night"  bird,  as  it  flies  about  mostly 
at  dusk,  sometimes  at  midday,  nor  yet  is  it  a  hawk,  being 
called  so  only  from  a  resemblance  when  on  the  wing,  and 
in  its  general  appearance  at  a  distance. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

93 


Nighthawk 

Anyone  disliking  the  name,  however,  surely  can  not 
complain  of  a  limited  choice  of  other  names,  by  which, 
in  different  sections  of  the  country,  it  is  quite  as  commonly 
known, — night-jar,  bull-bat,  mosquito  hawk,  will-o'-the 
wisp,  pisk,  piramidig,  long-winged  goatsucker. 

NELTJE  BLANCH  AN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 


It  has  almost  no  bill  at  all,  merely  a  hook  and  eye  for 
a  wide  gaping  mouth. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 


When  flying,  the  white  mark  on  their  primaries  is  a 
conspicuous  character,  and  has  the  appearance  of  being 
a  hole  in  the  bird's  wing. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 


The  aerial  evolutions  of  the  nighthawk  are  remarkable. 
It  soars  and  it  flaps,  it  twists  and  it  turns,  it  mounts  per- 
pendicularly into  the  air — all  with  graceful  ease;  and  in 
the  nesting  season  its  performances  are  a  seven  days' 
wonder  for  all  beholders.  When  high  in  the  air,  it  shoots 
down  almost  to  the  earth,  and  then,  turning  abruptly, 
ascends  to  the  same  heights.  In  diving,  the  air  is  forced 
through  its  wings,  making  a  booming  sound,  which  Nuttall 
describes  as  "  resembling  that  produced  by  blowing  strongly 
into  the  bung  of  an  empty  hogshead. " 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 
94 


Nighthawk 

This  booming  sound,  coming  from  such  a  height  that 
the  bird  itself  is  often  unseen,  was  said  by  the  Indians 
to  be  made  by  the  shad  spirits  to  warn  the  schools  of 
shad,  about  to  ascend  the  rivers  to  spawn  in  the  spring, 
of  their  impending  fate. 

NETLJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

They  roost  upon  a  large  and  nearly  horizontal  branch 
in  a  longitudinal  direction.  The  design  of  nature  in  this 
instinct  is  to  afford  the  bird  that  concealment  which  is 
needful  for  its  protection  in  the  daytime.  When  thus 

placed  he  is  entirely  hidden  from  sight  below 

If  his  foe  were  looking  down  upon  him,  he  would  hardly 
be  distinguished,  his  mottled-brown  plumage  making  no 
contrast  in  color  with  the  bark  of  the  tree. 

FLAGG.    A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 

CALL-NOTE  : 

A  sharp  "eek"  or  "peent." 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM. 

A  shrill  note  that  has  been  likened  to  the  word  Piramidig . 

FLAGG. 

An  indescribable  squeak. 

PARKHURST. 

A  single  note,  of  a  guttural-nasal  quality,  almost  indis- 
tinguishable from  the  so-called  bleat  of  the  woodcock. 

TORREY. 
95 


Nighthawk 

In  devious  circles  round  and  round, 

The  nighthawk  coursed  the  twilight  sky, 
Or  shot  like  lightning  the  profound, 

With  breezy  thunder  in  the  cry 
That  marked  his  furious  rebound. 

J.  G.  HOLLAND. 

NUTHATCH,  WHITE-BREASTED 

The  name  nuthatch  has  been  bestowed  on  this  family 
of  birds  from  their  supposed  practice  of  breaking  nuts  by 

repeated  hatchings,  or  hammerings  with  their  bills 

It  is  said  that  they  lay  up  a  large  store  of  nuts  for  winter, 

but  ....  I  am  inclined  to  doubt  the  fact 

I  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  ants,  bugs,  small  seeds, 
insects  and  their  larvae  form  their  chief  subsistence. 

WILSON. 

A  lady  forgetting  his  name  once  aptly  described  him 
to  me  as  "that  little  upside-down  bird,"  for  he  will  run 
along  the  under  side  of  a  branch  with  as  much  coolness 
as  a  fly  would  cross  a  ceiling. 

Audubon  observes  that  he  sleeps  hanging  head  down. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 

They  have  little  fear,  but  a  great  deal  of  curiosity.  In 
a  very  pert  and  comical  manner  one  will  stretch  out  its 
neck,  cock  its  head  on  one  side,  and  coolly  examine  a 
person  passing  by.  But  the  difference  between  impudent 
boldness  and  artless  inquisitiveness  is  as  easily  distinguish- 
able in  a  bird  as  in  a  human  being. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

96 


Nuthatch,  White-Breasted 

When  the  trees  are  incased  in  ice,  which,  though  not 
impenetrable  by  their  strong  bills,  prevents  the  discovery 

of  their   food,   they   are  in   danger  of  starving 

Driven  by  this  necessity  from  their  usual  haunts,  a  piece 
of  suet  fastened  firmly  to  the  branch  of  a  tree,  at  any 
time  of  the  winter,  would  soon  be  discovered  by  them 
and  afford  them  a  grateful  repast. 

FLAGG.    A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 

There  is  such  a  lack  of  sentiment  in  the  nuthatch's 
character,  he  seems  so  matter-of-fact  in  all  his  ways,  that 
it  is  difficult  to  imagine  him  indulging  in  anything  like 
song.  But  even  he  cannot  withstand  the  all-conquering 
influences  of  spring,  and  at  that  season  he  raises  his  voice 
in  a  peculiar  monotone — a  tenor  hah-hah-hah-hah-hah — 
sounding  strangely  like  mirthless  laughter. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 

CALL-NOTE  : 

Ick-ick-ick. — STEARNS. 

Kauk-kauk. — NUTTALL. 

A  loud  nasal  yank,  yank. — CHAPMAN. 

Yak,  yak,  yak,  yak-ah,  ak-ah. — MERRIAM. 

Quah-quah. — THOREAU. 

Up  and  down  the  maples  rough  and  shaggy-coated, 
Busy  searching  through  the  lichens  all  the  day, 

Shyly  creeps  the  tiny  nuthatch  snowy-throated, 
Sharply  eyeing  every  crevice  for  its  prey. 

SELECTED. 
97 


Nuthatch,  White-Breasted 

To  a  Nuthatch 

Shrewd  little  haunter  of  woods  all  gray, 
Whom  I  meet  on  my  walk  of  a  winter  day — 
You're  busy  inspecting  each  cranny  and  hole 
In  the  ragged  bark  of  yon  hickory  bole; 
You  intent  on  your  task,  and  I  on  the  law 
Of  your  wonderful  head  and  gymnastic  claw! 

The  woodpecker  well  may  despair  of  this  feat — 
Only  the  fly  with  you  can  compete! 
So  much  is  clear;  but  I  fain  would  know 
How  you  can  so  reckless  and  fearless  go, 
Head  upward,  head  downward,  all  one  to  you, 
Zenith  and  nadir  the  same  in  your  view. 

EDITH  M.  THOMAS. 


NUTHATCH,  RED-BREASTED 

This  bird  is  smaller  than  the  white-breasted  nuthatch, 
and  can  be  recognized  at  a  glance  by  the  stripes  on  its 
head,  and  the  reddish  brown  of  its  breast. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 


The  notes  of  this  species,  though  similar  to  the  white- 
breasted,  are  sharper,  resembling  day  day  dait,  and  sound- 
ing almost  like  a  child's  trumpet.  Its  motions  are  also 
quicker. 

Nuttall's  Ornithology.26 

98 


ORIOLE,  BALTIMORE.  GOLDEN  ROBIN.  FIRE 
BIRD.     ENGLISH  ROBIN.     HANG-NEST 

A  flash  of  fire  through  the  air;  a  rich,  high,  whistled 
song  floating  in  the  wake  of  the  feathered  meteor;  the 
Baltimore  oriole  cannot  be  mistaken. 

NELTJE  BLANCH  AN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

I  always  look  for  the  Baltimore  oriole  when  the  cherry 
trees  burst  into  blossom,  and  at  no  time  does  its  beautiful 
plumage  appear  to  better  advantage  than  when  seen 
against  a  background  of  white  flowers. 

CHAPMAN.    Bird  Life.22 

Among  all  the  designs  of  nests,  in  this  country  at  least, 
there  is  nothing  more  picturesque  than  the  deep,  pendulous 
structure  of  the  Baltimore  oriole,  hanging  from  near  the 
extremity  of  a  drooping  branch  of  an  elm-tree,  nearly 
seven  inches  in  depth,  of  cylindrical  shape,  the  outer  part 
a  sort  of  coarsely  woven  cloth  made  of  thread,  sewing 
silk,  ravellings  of  any  kind,  strings  of  the  flax  of  silk-weed, 
tow,  etc.,  with  a  lining  of  horse-hair,  grass  and  similar 
material. 

PARKHURST.    The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

Before  the  advent  of  civilization  in  this  country,  the 
oriole  probably  built  a  much  deeper  nest  than  it  usually 
does  at  present.  When  now  it  builds  in  remote  trees  and 
along  the  borders  of  the  woods,  its  nest,  I  have  noticed, 
is  long  and  gourd-shaped;  but  in  orchards  and  near  dwel- 
lings it  is  only  a  deep  cup  or  pouch. 

BURROUGHS.     Signs  and  Seasons.7 
99 


Oriole,  Baltimore.     Golden  Robin.     Firebird. 
English  Robin.     Hang-Nest 

Few  birds  like  the  hairy  caterpillars,  but  Dr.  Fisher 
has  seen  the  oriole  go  up  before  a  caterpillar's  nest  and, 
after  puncturing  it  with  his  bill,  stand  and  wait  for  the 
caterpillars  to  come  out.  As  each  one  appeared  he  seized 
it  and  after  sucking  the  juices  of  its  body  threw  away 
the  hairy  skin  covering. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERBIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

Until  too  much  engrossed  with  family  duties,  the  beauti- 
ful birds  sing  a  great  deal There  is  a  bright 

vivacious   song,   an   equally  hearty   scold,   a  high,    shrill 
whistle,  and  a  richly  modulated  love  song. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 


How  falls  it,  oriole,  thou  hast  come  to  fly 

In  tropic  splendor  through  our  Northern  sky? 

At  some  glad  moment,  was  it  Nature's  choice 

To  dower  a  scrap  of  sunset  with  a  voice? 

Or  did  some  orange  tulip  flaked  with  black, 

In  some  forgotten  garden,  ages  back, 

Yearning  towards  heaven,  until  its  wish  was  heard, 

Desire  unspeakably  to  be  a  bird? 

EDGAR  FAWCETT. 

How  still  the  air  is ! 

There  an  oriole  flew; 
What  a  jolly  whistle! 

He's  a  sailor,  too. 

100 


Oriole,    Baltimore.       Golden    Robin. 
English  Robin.     Hang-Nest 

Yonder  is  his  hammock 
In  an  elm-top  high: 

One  more  ballad,  messmate! 
Sing  it  as  you  fly! 


The  oriole  with  experienced  quest 
Twitches  the  fibrous  bark  away, 
The  cordage  of  his  hammock-nest, 
Cheering  his  labor  with  a  note 
Rich  as  the  orange  of  his  throat. 


My  Oriole,  my  glance  of  summer  fire, 
Is  come  at  last,  and  ever  on  the  watch, 
Twitches  the  pack-thread  I  had  lightly  wound 
About  the  bough  to  help  his  housekeeping, — 
Twitches  and  scouts  by  turns,  blessing  his  luck, 
Yet  fearing  me  who  laid  it  in  his  way, 
Nor,  more  than  wiser  we  in  our  affairs, 
Divines  the  providence  that  hides  and  helps. 
Heave,  ho!  heave,  ho!  he  whistles  as  the  twine 
Slackens  its  hold;  once  more,  now!  and  a  flash 
Lightens  across  the  sunlight  to  the  elm 
Where  his  mate  dangles  at  her  cup  of  felt. 


Firebird. 


LUCY  LARCOM. 


LOWELL. 


LOWELL. 


"Come  here!  come  here!  Summer  is  on  the  way!" 
The  oriole  is  calling  in  the  blossom-time  of  May. 

SELECTED. 


101 


OVEN-BIRD.     GOLDEN-CROWNED  THRUSH 

Early  in  May  you  may  have  the  good  fortune  to  see 
this  little  bird  of  the  woods  strutting  in  and  out  of  the 
garden  shrubbery  with  a  certain  mock  dignity  like  a  child 
wearing  its  father's  boots.  Few  birds  can  walk  without 
appearing  more  or  less  ridiculous,  and  however  gracefully 
and  pretty  it  steps,  this  amusing  wagtail  is  no  exception. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

As  an  architect  the  oven-bird  is  distinguished.  His 
unique  nest  is  built  on  the  ground,  of  coarse  grasses,  weed- 
stalks,  leaves  and  rootlets,  and  is  roofed  over,  the  entrance 
being  at  one  side.  It  thus  resembles  an  old-fashioned 
Dutch  oven,  and  its  shape  is  the  origin  of  its  builders' 
name. 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 


If  there  be  such  a  thing  as  inspiration,  I  believe  the 

oven-bird    sings    under    its    influence Flying    up 

from  the  ground,  how  cautiously  he  hops  from  branch 
to  branch,  and  with  crest  slightly  erect,  walks  carefully 
along  a  limb,  when,  suddenly  overcome  by  the  music  in 
his  soul,  he  throws  fear  to  the  winds  and  lifts  up  his  voice 
in  a  crescendo  chant  which  vibrates  through  the  woods. 
Teacher,  teacher,  TEACHER,  TEACHER,  Mr.  Burroughs 
writes  it,  and  the  description  is  difficult  to  improve  upon. 
The  bird  fairly  quivers  with  the  violence  of  his  effort. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 


He  has  a  far  rarer  song  which  he  reserves  for  some  nymph 
whom  he  meets  in  the  air.    Mounting  by  easy  flights  to 

102 


Oven-Bird.     Golden-Crowned  Thrush 

the  top  of  the  tallest  tree,  he  launches  into  the  air  with 
a  sort  of  suspended,  hovering  flight  ....  and  bursts 
into  a  perfect  ecstasy  of  song,  clear,  ringing,  copious, 
rivalling  the  goldfinch's  in  vivacity,  and  the  linnet's  in 
melody.  This  strain  is  one  of  the  rarest  bits  of  bird-melody 
to  be  heard.  BURROUGHS.  Wake  Robin.5 

The  Oven-Bird 

In  the  days  of  spring  migrations, 

Days  when  warbler  hosts  move  northward, 

To  the  forests,  to  the  leaf-beds, 

Comes  the  tiny  oven-builder. 

Daintily  the  leaves  he  tiptoes; 

Underneath  them  builds  his  oven, 

Arched  and  framed  with  last  year's  oak  leaves, 

Roofed  and  walled  against  the  rain-drops. 

Hour  by  hour  his  voice  he  raises, 
Mingling  with  the  red-eye's  snatches, 
Answering  to  the  hermit's  anthem; 
Rising — falling,  like  a  wind  breath. 

Strange,  ventriloquous  his  music, 
Far  away  when  close  beside  one; 
Near  at  hand  when  seeming  distant; 
Weird — his  plaintive  accrescendo. 

Teach  us !  teach  us !  is  his  asking, 
Uttered  to  the  Omnipresent: 
Teach  us !  teach  us !  comes  responsive 
From  the  solemn  listening  forest. 

BOLLES.    Chocorua's  Tenants.19 

103 


OWLS 


Owls  are  nocturnal  birds  of  prey,  and  for  this  reason 
feed  more  largely  on  small  mammals — most  of  which  are 
nocturnal — than  the  diurnal  birds  of  prey.  They  are 
therefore  of  even  greater  value  to  the  agriculturist  than 
hawks. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 


Owls  have  little  flaps  of  skin  with  which  they  can  shut 
up  their  ears  when  they  wish  to  be  quiet. 

OLIVE  THORNE  MILLER.     First  Book  of  Birds.3 

Owls'  eyes  are  so  fixed  in  their  sockets  that  they  cannot 
look  from  one  point  to  another  by  simply  lt rolling"  the 
eyeball,  but  are  obliged  to  turn  their  head. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 


The  owl  is  the  great  bugaboo  of  the  feathered  tribes. 
His  appearance  by  day  is  hailed  by  shouts  of  alarm  and 
derision  from  nearly  every  bird  that  flies,  from  crows 
down  to  sparrows.  They  swarm  about  him  like  flies,  and 
literally  mob  him  back  into  his  dusky  retreat. 

BURROUGHS.     Birds  and  Poets.10 


His  occupancy  of  deserted  houses  and  ruins  has  invested 
him  with  a  romantic  character  ....  He  deserves  in 
a  special  degree  to  be  classed  among  those  animals  which 
we  call  picturesque. 

FLAGG.     A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 

104 


Owls 


Bird  of  the  silent  wing  and  expansive  eye,  grimalkin 
in  feathers,   feline,   mousing,  haunting  ruins  and  towers, 
and  mocking  the  midnight  stillness  with  thy  uncanny  cry! 
BURROUGHS.     Birds  and  Poets.10 

I  rejoice  that  there  are  owls.  Let  them  do  the  idiotic 
and  maniacal  hooting  for  men.  It  is  a  sound  admirably 
suited  to  swamps  and  twilight  woods. 

THOREAU.     Walden.16 

The  Owl  and  the  Echo 

A    FABLE 

An  owl  puffed  up  with  pride  and  vanity  was  repeating  his 
doleful  cries  at  midnight  from  the  hollow  of  an  old  oak. 
"How  is  it,"  he  said,  ''that  silence  prevails  hi  this  wood, 
unless  it  be  to  allow  my  melodious  voice  to  be  heard  with 
effect?  Surely  the  groves  are  charmed  with  my  voice,  and 
when  I  sing  all  nature  listens." 

An  echo  repeated  the  words,  "All  nature  listens."  "The 
nightingale  has  usurped  my  rights,"  continued  the  owl. 
"  His  note  is  sweet,  it  is  true,  but  mine  is  much  more  melo- 
dious." 

"Much  more  melodious, "  repeated  the  echo.  Excited  by 
approval,  the  owl,  at  the  rising  of  the  sun,  instead  of  going 
to  sleep  as  usual,  continued  to  join  his  hooting  with  the 
matin  songs  of  the  other  birds.  But  they  were  disgusted 
by  the  sounds  and  with  one  consent  attacked  the  owl  and 
drove  him  from  their  society,  harassing  him  wherever  he 
appeared,  so  that  to  escape  from  them  he  was  glad  to  avoid 
the  light  and  return  to  obscurity. 

Vain  people  fancy  that  their  imaginary  perfections  are  the 
cause  of  admiration  hi  others  and  mistake  their  self-flattery 
for  the  voice  of  fame.  SELECTED. 

105 


RUFFED  GROUSE.  PARTRIDGE 

The  ruffed  grouse,  or  partridge  of  the  north  and  pheasant 
of  the  south,  is  properly  a  true  grouse,  and  cannot  be 
correctly  called  either  partridge  or  pheasant. 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 


Their  way  of  scratching  in  the  snow,  resting  their  weight 
on  one  foot  and  scratching  with  the  other  is  like  that  of 
the  common  hen,  and  their  drumming  is  the  finished  per- 
formance that  is  caricatured  by  chanticleer.  Drumming 
with  the  partridge  is  a  joy. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 

Who  has  seen  the  partridge  drum?  It  is  the  next  thing 
to  catching  a  weasel  asleep,  though  by  much  caution  and 
tact  it  may  be  done.  He  selects  not,  as  you  would  predict, 
a  dry  and  resinous  log,  but  a  decayed  and  crumbling  one, 
seeming  to  give  the  preference  to  old  oak  logs  that  are  partly 
blended  with  the  soil ....  He  does  not  hug  the  log, 
but  stands  very  erect,  expands  his  ruff,  gives  two  intro- 
ductory blows,  pauses  half  a  second,  and  then  resumes, 
striking  faster  and  faster  until  the  sound  becomes  a  con- 
tinuous, unbroken  whir,  the  whole  lasting  less  than  half 
a  minute. 

BURROUGHS.     Wake  Robin.5 


To  find  a  hen  grouse  with  young  is  a  memorable  ex- 
perience. While  the  parent  is  giving  us  a  lesson  in  mother- 
love  and  bird  intelligence,  her  downy  chicks  are  teaching 
us  facts  in  protective  coloration  and  heredity.  How  the 
old  one  limps  and  flutters!  She  can  barely  drag  herself 

106 


Ruffed  Grouse.     Partridge 

along  the  ground.  But  while  we  are  watching  her,  what 
has  become  of  the  ten  or  a  dozen  little  yellow  balls  we 
almost  stepped  upon.  Not  a  feather  do  we  see,  until, 
poking  about  in  the  leaves,  we  find  one  little  chap  hiding 
here  and  another  squatting  there,  all  perfectly  still,  and 
so  like  the  leaves  hi  color  as  to  be  nearly  invisible. 

CHAPMAN.    Bird  Life.22 

Nature  has  not  asked  this  bird  to  walk  the  snows  for 
its  living  without  providing  it  with  proper  means  of  loco- 
motion. With  its  slender  summer  foot  it  would  sink  in 
the  soft  drift  at  every  step,  while  now  it  walks  with  perfect 
ease  on  the  lightest  snow,  for  each  foot  is  provided  with 
a  snow-shoe.  Every  autumn  the  shoe  begins  to  grow, 
a  stiff  fringe  of  horny  bristles  spreading  around  the  sole 
and  on  both  sides  of  each  toe,  until,  by  the  time  the  blizzard 
arrives,  the  bird  is  ready  to  walk  on  the  highest  drifts. 
The  intention  of  this  bristly  growth  is  perfectly  plain, 
for  in  April,  when  the  snows  have  melted  you  may  look 
in  vain  for  the  snow-shoe;  the  grouse  has  kicked  it  off 
as  a  thing  that  has  served  its  purpose. 

GIBSON.     Sharp  Eyes.32 

Then  it  is  the  stately  partridge 
Spreads  his  ruff  and  mounts  his  rostrum, 
Gazes  proudly  round  the  thicket, 
Sounds  his  strange  and  muffled  signal. 
First  with  slow  and  heavy  measure, 
Then  like  eager,  hurried  heart-beats, 
Ending  hi  a  nervous  nutter 
Faster  than  the  ear  can  reckon. 

BOLLES.    Chocorua's  Tenants.19 
107 


PEWEE,  WOOD 

The  chances  are  that  you  will  find  it  perched  on  a  dead 
twig  of  some  tall  tree  projecting  into  open  space.  There 
it  will  look  down  for  insects  that  may  pass  beneath,  and, 
sighting  one,  it  glides  gracefully  downward,  seizes  the 
insect,  and  then  returns  to  its  perch  with  a  graceful  up- 
ward curve  that  shows  how  beautiful  a  movement  flight 
may  be. 

ABBOTT.     Birds  About  Us.27 


It  is  always  hungry.  I  have  seen  it  at  sunrise  darting 
at  flies  in  the  chilly,  dismal,  fog-laden  air,  and  until  noon, 
though  the  woods  were  as  another  Inferno,  still  at  work, 
instead  of  resting  when  other  birds  were  taking  a  nap; 
not  even  during  the  quiet  of  mid-afternoon,  when  the 
sun  seemed  to  have  paused  in  his  career;  no,  nor  yet  at 
sundown,  when  even  the  last  robin  had  chirped  to  the 
world  "good  night";  but  at  last,  when,  in  the  fading 
light,  its  skill  was  no  longer  equal  to  the  task,  it,  too,  bade 
me  farewell,  its  mournful,  tired-out  pe-a-wee  being  the 
last  bird-sound  of  the  day. 

ABBOTT.     Birdland  Echoes.28 


The  wood  pewee's  nest  is  essentially  woodsy  and  distinc- 
tive. It  is  an  exquisite  little  structure,  saddled  on  to  a 
lichen-covered  limb.  Made  of  fine  roots  and  delicate 
stems  of  grass  and  seed  pods,  it  is  covered  with  bits  of 
lichen  or  moss  glued  on  with  saliva,  so  that  like  the  hum- 
ming bird's  nest  it  seems  to  be  a  knob  on  the  branch. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.    Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 

108 


Pewee,  Wood 

His  pensive,  gentle  ways  are  voiced  by  his  sad,  sweet 
call.  The  notes  are  as  musical  and  restful,  as  much  a 
part  of  Nature's  hymn,  as  the  soft  humming  of  a  brook. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 

He  repeats  his  "sweetly  solemn  thought"  over  and 
over  again,  all  day  long  and  every  day  throughout  the 
summer. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

The  Pewee 

The  listening  Dryads  hushed  the  woods; 

The  boughs  were  thick,  and  thin  and  few 

The  golden  ribbons  fluttering  through; 
Their  sun-embroidered,  leafy  hoods 

The  lindens  lifted  to  the  blue; 
Only  a  little  forest-brook 
The  farthest  hem  of  silence  shook; 
When  in  the  hollow  shades  I  heard — 
What  is  it,  a  spirit  or  a  bird? 
Or,  strayed  from  Eden,  desolate, 
Some  Peri  calling  to  her  mate, 
Whom  nevermore  her  mate  would  cheer? 
"Peri!  peri!  peer!" 

To  trace  it  in  its  green  retreat 

I  sought  among  the  boughs  in  vain; 

And  followed  still  the  wandering  strain, 
So  melancholy  and  so  sweet, 

The  dim-eyed  violets  yearned  with  pain. 

109 


The  Pewee 

'Twas  now  a  sorrow  in  the  air, 
Some  nymph's  immortalized  despair 
Haunting  the  woods  and  waterfalls; 
And  now,  at  long,  sad  intervals, 
Sitting  unseen  in  dusky  shade, 
His  plaintive  pipe  some  fairy  played, 

With  long-drawn  cadence  thin  and  clear, — 

"  Pe-wee !  pe-wee !  peer ! " 

I  quit  the  search,  and  set  me  down 

Beside  the  brook,  irresolute, 

And  watched  the  little  bird  in  suit 
Of  sober  olive,  soft  and  brown, 

Perched  in  the  maple  branches,  mute; 
With  greenish  gold  its  vest  was  fringed, 
Its  tiny  cap  was  ebon-tinged, 
With  ivory  pale  its  wings  were  barred, 
And  its  dark  eyes  were  tender-starred. 
"Dear  bird,"  I  said,  "  What  is  thy  name?" 
And  thrice  the  mournful  answer  came, 
So  faint  and  far,  and  yet  so  near,— 

"  Pe-wee !  pee-wee !  peer ! ' ' 

JOHN  T.  TROWBRIDGE. 

PHOEBE.    WATER  PEWEE 

There  he  sits  on  a  branch,  in  an  attitude  that  would 
shock  the  neat  songsters.  His  wings  droop  at  his  sides, 
and  his  tail  hangs  down  in  the  most  negligent  fashion. 
He  seems  the  personification  of  listlessness;  but, — focus 
your  glass  on  him, — his  wings  are  vibrating,  and  his  tail 
jerks  nervously  at  intervals.  Suddenly  he  starts  into 

110 


Phoebe.    Water  Pewee " 

the  air,  snaps  his  bill  loudly  over  an  unsuspecting  insect 
he  has  been  lying  in  wait  for,  and,  before  you  breathe, 
settles  back  on  the  branch  with  a  spasmodic  jerk  of  the 
tail. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 


The  note  is  a  somewhat  harsh  and  querulous  one,  re- 
sembling the  word  phoebe.  The  first  syllable  is  smooth, 
the  second  rough  and  broken. 

M.  A.  WILLCOX.     The  Common  Land  Birds  of  New  England.29 


In  Florida  the  phoebe  is  said  to  light  on  the  backs  of 
cattle,  taking  a  ride  with  the  laudable  excuse  of  catching 
flies. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 


When  not  domesticated,  as  these  birds  are  rapidly 
becoming,  the  phoebes  dearly  love  a  cool,  wet  woodland 
retreat.  Here  they  hunt  and  bathe;  here  they  also  build 
in  a  rocky  bank  or  ledge  of  rocks,  or  underneath  a  bridge, 
but  always  with  clever  adaptation  of  their  nest  to  its 
surroundings,  out  of  which  it  seems  a  natural  growth. 
It  is  one  of  the  most  finished,  beautiful  nests  ever  found. 
A  pair  of  phoebes  become  attached  to  a  spot  where  they 
have  once  nested;  they  never  stray  far  from  it,  and  return 
to  it  regularly  (they  are  mated  for  life),  though  they  do 
not  again  occupy  the  old  nest. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 
ill 


Phoebe.     Water  Pewee 

Phoebe  is  a  devoted  parent,  and  is  rarely  found  far 
from  home.  His  nest  seems  to  be  the  favorite  abode  of 
an  innumerable  swarm  of  parasites,  which  sometimes 

cause  the  death  of  his  offspring There  is 

something  familiar,  trustful  and  homelike  in  the  phoebe's 
ways  which  has  won  him  an  undisputed  place  in  our 
affections. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 


It  is  a  wee,  sad-colored  thing, 

As  shy  and  secret  as  a  maid, 
That,  ere  in  choir  the  robins  ring, 

Pipes  its  own  name  like  one  afraid. 

LOWELL. 


QUAIL.     BOB-WHITE 

He  is  neither  a  true  quail  nor  a  partridge  and  those  who 
claim  that  but  one  of  these  names  is  correct  may  com- 
promise on  "Bob-white." 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 


As  a  weed-seed  and  insect  destroyer  it  is  of  such  economic 
importance  that  in  Wisconsin,  where  it  has  been  practically 
exterminated,  attempts  have  recently  been  made  to  re- 
establish it.  It  eats  the  potato  beetle,  and  it  is  particu- 
larly fond  of  the  moth  that  lays  the  egg  that  produces 
the  injurious,  omnivorous  cutworm. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 
112 


Quail.     Bob-White 

There  are  few  prettier  sights  than  a  family  of  old  quail 
with  their  young  walking  fearlessly  about  in  a  woodland 
meadow.  The  bird's  domestic  life  is  particularly  interesting 
from  the  part  the  male  plays  in  the  family,  helping  to 
build  the  nest,  feeding  his  mate  on  the  eggs,  and,  in  case 
of  her  death,  brooding  in  her  place. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

At  night,  for  at  least  many  days  in  succession,  the  quail 
selects  the  same  spot  to  sleep  in,  more  usually  on  low  ground, 
where  the  long  grass  affords  shelter  and  warmth.  There 
they  encamp,  not  huddled  together  promiscuously  and 
unadvisedly,  but  shoulder  to  shoulder  in  a  circle,  with 
their  heads  out,  so  that  in  the  event  of  a  sudden  surprise 
they  escape  rapidly,  and  in  every  direction,  without  diffi- 
culty  In  winter,  they  lie  on  the  ground  as 

usual,  always  allowing  the  snow  to  accumulate  until 
morning,  when  they  free  themselves  by  united  effort. 
Should  a  crust  be  formed,  they  frequently  find  it  impossible 
to  escape,  and  so  perish. 

MINOT.     Land  and  Game  Birds.20 

The  destruction  of  this  useful  and  interesting  species  by 
our  winter  snows  is  a  public  calamity;  and  nothing,  it 
seems  to  me,  can  mitigate  the  evil  save  the  building  of 
artificial  shelters,  strewing  around  them  some  sort  of 
grain  to  prevent  their  wandering  far  away  from  them. 
Our  farmers  have  not  sufficiently  considered  the  advantages 
they  might  derive  from  this  semi-domestication  of  the 
quail  and  some  other  species  that  winter  with  us. 

FLAGG.     A  Year  With  the  Birds.26 
113 


Quail.     Bob-White 

Bob  White 

There's  a  plump  little  chap  in  a  speckled  coat, 
And  he  sits  on  the  zigzag  rails  remote, 
Where  he  whistles  at  breezy,  bracing  morn, 
Where  the  buckwheat  is  ripe,  and  stacked  the  corn: 
"Bob  White!  Bob  White!  Bob  White!" 

Is  he  hailing  some  comrade  as  blithe  as  he? 
.    Now  I  wonder  where  Robert  White  can  be ! 
O'er  the  billows  of  gold  and  amber  grain 
There  is  no  one  in  sight — but  hark  again : 
"Bob  White!  Bob  White!  Bob  White!" 

Ah!  I  see  why  he  calls;  in  the  stubbles  there 
Hide  his  plump  little  wife  and  babies  fair! 
So  contented  is  he,  and  so  proud  of  the  same, 
That  he  wants  all  the  world  to  know  his  name, 
"Bob  White!  Bob  White!  Bob  White!" 

SELECTED. 
REDPOLL.     REDPOLL  LINNET 

Erelong,  amid  the  cold  powdery  snow,  as  it  were  a  fruit 
of  the  season,  will  come  twittering  a  flock  of  delicate, 
crimson-tinged  birds,  lesser  redpolls,  to  sport  and  feed 
on  the  seeds  and  buds  just  ripe  for  them  on  the  sunny 
side  of  a  wood,  shaking  down  the  powdery  snow  there 
in  their  cheerful  feeding,  as  if  it  were  high  midsummer 
to  them. 

THOREAU.     Autumn.14 

114 


Redpoll.     Redpoll  Linnet 

The  redpolls  are  occasionally  the  most  abundant  of 
our  winter  birds,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  several  successive 
winters  often  pass  without  their  occurrence  in  Massachusetts. 
....  They  wander  continually  during  their  visits, 
and  hence  are  very  irregular  in  appearance  at  different 
localities.  I  have  never  observed  them  to  feed  from  the 
evergreens,  but  they  have  a  marked  fondness  for  the  seeds 
of  white  birches  and  alders. 

MINOT.     Land  and  Game  Birds.20 


Famine,  in  all  probability,  or  the  scarcity  of  food,  urges 
them  to  advance  toward  the  south.  It  is  certain  that 
they  do  not  forsake  their  natal  regions  to  seek  shelter 
from  the  cold. 

Nuttall's  Ornithology.26 


In  the  birches,  on  the  grasses 
Stiffly  rising  through  the  snow  crust, 
On  the  slope  of  yonder  sand-bank 
Where  the  snow  has  slipped  and  wasted, 
Rest  a  flock  of  trustful  strangers, 
Lisping  words  of  gentle  greeting, 
Rest  and  find  the  sun's  rays  warming, 
Rest  and  find  their  food  abundant, 
Resting,  sing  of  weary  journeys 
From  a  Northland  cold  and  distant. 

Rose-touched  are  their  brows,  with  tints  like 
Lights  upon  a  winter's  snow-field, 


115 


Redpoll.     Redpoll  Linnet 

Rosy  are  their  caps  as  morning 
When  the  storm  clouds  gather  eastward, 
Happy  are  their  hearts  and  voices, 
Happy  are  the  fields  and  forests, 
When  their  merry  notes  come  jingling, 
Sleighbell  like,  from  upper  ether. 

BOLLES.    Chocorua's  Tenants.19 
REDSTART 

The  Germans  call  this  little  bird  roth  Stert  (red  tail), 
but,  like  so  many  popular  names,  this  is  a  misnomer,  as, 
strictly  speaking,  the  '  redstart  is  never  red,  though  its 
salmon-orange  markings  often  border  on  to  orange-flame. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

If  the  male  redstart  is  a  fiery  coal,  the  female  is  a  trail 
of  ashes  in  his  wake. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

In  Cuba  most  of  our  wood  warblers  are  known  simply 
as  "Mariposas" — butterflies;  but  the  redstart's  bright 
plumage  has  won  for  him  the  name  "Candelita" — the 
little  torch  that  flashes  in  the  gloomy  depths  of  tropical 
forests. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 

They  show  warbler  blood  by  the  mad  way  they  career 
about,  opening  and  shutting  their  tails  fan-fashion,  turning 
somersaults,  flitting  from  branch  to  branch,  stopping  a 


Redstart 


second  to  give  a  little  burst  of  song,  and  then  fluttering 
round  again;  chasing  helter-skelter  among  the  bushes; 
and  suddenly  falling  through  the  leaves  as  if  they  had 
been  shot,  only  to  snap  up  their  prey  and  dart  off  to  begin 
their  gambols  over  again. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.    Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 

The  redstart  folds  and  unfolds  his  twinkling  tail  in  sport. 

OLIVE  THORNE  MILLER. 


ROBIN,  AMERICAN 

The  most  native  and  democratic  of  all  our  birds. 

BURROUGHS.    Wake  Robin.5 

His  red  breast  is  a  myth  and  belongs  to  his  English 
namesake,  and  it  must  be  owned  that  his  is  a  homely 
reddish  brown  that  looks  red  only  when  the  sunlight  falls 

on  it He  has  ....  a  calm,  dignified  air. 

With  time  to  meditate  when  he  chooses,  like  other  sturdy, 
well-fed  people,  his  reflections  usually  take  a  cheerful 
turn;  and  when  he  lapses  into  a  poetical  mood,  as  he 
often  does  at  sunrise  or  sunset,  sitting  on  a  branch  in  the 
softened  light  and  whispering  a  little  song  to  himself, 
his  sentiment  is  the  wholesome,  every-day  sort  .... 
full  of  contented  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  world  he 
lives  in. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 

117 


Robin,  American 

Too  much  stress  is  laid  on  the  mischief  done  by  the 
robins  in  the  cherry  trees  and  strawberry  patches  and 
too  little  upon  the  quantity  of  worms  and  insects  they 
devour. 

NELTJE  BLANCH  AN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 


His  flight  is  rapid,  clear-cut  and  straight.  Unlike 
many  birds,  he  moves  as  if  he  were  going  somewhere. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 

The  robin  is  the  Philomel  of  morning  twilight  in  New 
England  and  in  all  the  northeastern  states  of  this  continent. 
If  his  sweet  notes  were  wanting,  the  mornings  would  be 
like  a  landscape  without  the  rose,  or  a  summer-evening  sky 
without  tints.  He  is  the  chief  performer  in  the  delightful 

anthem  that  welcomes  the  rising  day Remove 

the  robin  from  this  woodland  orchestra  and  it  would  be  left 
without  a  soprano. 

FLAGG.    A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 


I  know  of  no  other  bird  that  is  able  to  give  so  many 
shades  of  meaning  to  a  single  note,  running  through  the 
entire  gamut  of  its  possible  feelings.  From  the  soft  and 
mellow  quality,  almost  as  coaxing  as  a  dove's  note,  with 
which  it  encourages  its  young  when  just  out  of  the  nest, 
the  tone,  with  minute  gradations,  becomes  more  vehement 
and  then  harsh  and  with  quickened  reiteration,  until  it 
expresses  the  greatest  intensity  of  a  bird's  emotions.  Love, 
contentment,  anxiety,  exultation,  rage — what  other  animal 
can  throw  such  multifarious  meaning  into  its  tone?  And 

118 


Robin,  American 

herein  the  robin  seems  more  nearly  human  than  any  of 
its  kind. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 


The  sweetest  sound  the  whole  year  round; 

'Tis  the  first  robin  of  the  spring! 
The  song  of  the  full  orchard  choir 

Is  not  so  fine  a  thing.  E.  C.  STEDMAN. 

Robin 

When  the  willows  gleam  along  the  brooks, 
And  the  grass  grows  green  in  sunny  nooks. 
In  the  sunshine  and  the  rain 
I  hear  the  robin  hi  the  lane 

Singing,  "  Cheerily, 

Cheer  up,  cheer  up; 

Cheerily,  cheerily, 
Cheer  up." 

But  the  snow  is  still 
Along  the  walls  and  on  the  hill, 
The  days  are  cold,  the  nights  forlorn 
For  one  is  here  and  one  is  gone. 

"Tut,  tut,  Cheerily, 

Cheer  up,  cheer  up; 

Cheerily,  cheerily, 
Cheer  up." 

When  spring  hopes  seem  to  wane, 

I  hear  the  joyful  strain — 

A  song  at  night,  a  song  at  morn, 

119 


Robin,  American 


A  lesson  deep  to  me  is  borne, 
Hearing,  "Cheerily, 
Cheer  up,  cheer  up; 
Cheerily,  cheerily, 
Cheer  up. " 

SELECTED. 

Robin's  Return 

Robin  on  the  tilting  bough, 
Red-breast  rover,  tell  me  how 
You  the  weary  time  have  passed 
Since  we  saw  and  heard  you  last. 

"  In  a  green  and  pleasant  land, 
By  a  summer  sea-breeze  fanned, 
Orange-trees  with  fruit  are  bent; 
There  the  weary  time  I've  spent. " 

Robin  rover,  there,  no  doubt, 
Your  best  music  you  poured  out; 
Piping  to  a  stranger's  ear, 
You  forgot  your  lovers  here. 

"  Little  lady,  on  my  word, 
You  do  wrong  a  true-heart  bird ! 
Not  one  ditty  would  I  sing, 
'Mong  the  leaves  or  on  the  wing. 

"  In  the  sun  or  in  the  rain, 
Stranger's  ear  would  list  in  vain. 
If  I  ever  tried  a  note, 
Something  rose  within  my  throat. 


120 


Robin,  American 

"  'Twas  because  my  heart  was  true 
To  the  North  and  spring-time  new; 
My  mind's  eye  a  nest  could  see 
In  yon  old,  forked  apple-tree." 

EDITH  M.  THOMAS. 

(Note.)     It  is  said  that  the  robin  does  not  sing  during 
its  winter  stay  in  the  South. 


The  Robin 

My  old  Welsh  neighbor  over  the  way 
Crept  slowly  out  in  the  sun  of  Spring, 

Pushed  from  her  ears  the  locks  of  gray, 
And  listened  to  hear  the  robin  sing. 

Her  grandson,  playing  at  marbles,  stopped 
And — cruel  in  sport,  as  boys  will  be — 

Tossed  a  stone  at  the  bird,  who  hopped  ' 
From  bough  to  bough  in  the  apple  tree. 

"Nay,"  said  the  grandmother,  "have  you  not  heard, 

My  poor  bad  boy!  of  the  fiery  pit, 
And  how,  drop  by  drop,  this  merciful  bird 

Carries  the  water  that  quenches  it? 

"  He  brings  cool  dew  in  his  little  bill, 

And  lets  it  fall  on  the  souls  of  sin; 
You  can  see  the  mark  on  his  red  breast  still 

Of  fires  that  scorch  as  he  drops  it  in. 


121 


Robin,  American 


"My  poor  Bronrhuddyn,  my  breast-burned  bird, 
Singing  so  sweetly  from  limb  to  limb, 

Very  dear  to  the  heart  of  our  Lord- 
Is  he  who  pities  the  lost  like  Him." 

"Amen!"  I  said  to  the  beautiful  myth: 
"Sing,  bird  of  God,  in  my  heart  as  well; 

Each  good  thought  is  a  drop  wherewith 
To  cool  and  lessen  the  fires  of  hell. 

"  Prayers  of  love  like  raindrops  fall, 

Tears  of  pity  are  cooling  dew, 
And  dear  to  the  heart  of  our  Lord  are  all 

Who  suffer  like  Him  in  the  good  they  do." 

WHITTIER. 

Sir  Robin 

Rollicking  Robin  is  here  again. 
What  does  he  care  for  the  April  rain? 
Care  for  it?    Glad  of  it.     Doesn't  he  know 
That  the  April  rain  carries  off  the  snow, 
And  coaxes  out  leaves  to  shadow  his  nest, 
And  washes  his  pretty  red  Easter  vest, 
And  makes  the  juice  of  the  cherry  sweet, 
For  his  hungry  little  robins  to  eat? 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!"  hear  the  jolly  bird  laugh. 

"That  isn't  the  best  of  the  story  by  half!" 

Gentleman  Robin,  he  walks  up  and  down, 
Dressed  in  orange-tawny  and  black  and  brown. 
Though  his  eye  is  so  proud  and  his  step  so  firm, 


122 


Robin,  American 


He  can  always  stoop  to  pick  up  a  worm. 

With  a  twist  of  his  head,  and  a  strut  and  a  hop, 

To  his  Robin-wife  hi  the  peach  tree  top, 

Chirping  her  heart  out,  he  calls :  "  My  dear, 

You  don't  earn  your  living!  Come  here!  Come  here! 

Ha!  ha!  ha!  Life  is  lovely  and  sweet; 

But  what  would  it  be  if  we'd  nothing  to  eat?" 

Robin,  sir  Robin,  gay,  red-vested  knight, 
Now  you  have  come  to  us,  summer's  in  sight. 
You  never  dream  of  the  wonders  you  bring, — 
Visions  that  follow  the  flash  of  your  wing; 
How  all  the  beautiful  By-and-by 
Around  you  and  after  you  seems  to  fly! 
Sing  on,  or  eat  on,  as  pleases  your  mind ! 
Well  have  you  earned  every  morsel  you  find. 
"Aye!  Ha!  ha!  ha!"  whistles  Robin,  "My  dear, 
Let  us  all  take  our  own  choice  of  good  cheer!" 

LUCY  LARCOM. 


The  Secret 

We  have  a  secret,  just  we  three, 
The  robin  and  I  and  the  sweet  cherry-tree, 
The  bird  told  the  tree,  and  the  tree  told  me, 
And  nobody  knows  it  but  just  we  three. 

But  of  course  the  robin  knows  it  best, 
Because  he  built  it — I  shan't  tell  the  rest; 
And  laid  the  four  little — somethings  in  it — 
I  am  afraid  I  shall  tell  it  every  minute. 


123 


Robin,  American 


But  if  the  tree  and  the  robin  don't  peep, 
I'll  try  my  best  the  secret  to  keep; 
Though  I  know  when  the  little  birds  fly  about, 
Then  the  whole  secret  will  be  out. 

SELECTED. 

The  Robin 

In  the  tall  elm-tree  sat  the  robin  bright, 

Through  the  rainy  April  day, 
And  he  carolled  clear  with  a  pure  delight, 

In  the  face  of  the  sky  so  gray. 
And  the  silver  rain  through  the  blossoms  dropped, 

And  fell  on  the  robin's  coat 
And  his  brave  red  breast,  but  he  never  stopped 

Piping  his  cheerful  note. 

For,  oh,  the  fields  were  green  and  glad, 

And  the  blissful  life  that  stirred 
On  the  earth's  wide  breast,  was  full  and  warm 

In  the  heart  of  the  little  bird. 
The  rain-cloud  lifted,  the  sunset  light 

Streamed  wide  over  valley  and  hill; 
As  the  plains  of  heaven  the  land  grew  bright, 

And  the  warm  south  wind  was  still. 

Then  loud  and  clear  called  the  happy  bird, 

And  rapturously  he  sang, 
Till  wood  and  meadow  and  river  side 

With  jubilant  echoes  rang. 
But  the  sun  dropped  down  in  the  quiet  west, 

And  he  hushed  his  song  at  last; 
All  nature  softly  sank  to  rest, 

And  the  April  day  had  passed.      CELIA  THAXTER. 

124 


Robin,  American 

How  the  Robin  Came 

Long,  long  ago,  in  the  time  almost  forgotten,  the  Indian 
father  called  his  tall  son  and  said  to  him,  "My  boy,  your  time 
to  go  to  the  forest  has  come.  To  the  thickest  part  of  the 
forest,  take  the  mat  your  mother  has  made  for  you.  Lie 
face  downward  upon  it  for  twelve  days  and  twelve  nights. 
Break  not  your  fast  until  the  twelfth  morning,  when  I  will 
bring  you  food.  These  things  do  to  prove  your  strength 
sufficient  for  a  warrior.  When  your  days  of  fasting  are 
completed,  the  tribe  will  give  a  great  feast  for  you.  The 
chief  will  say,  'Now  you  are  a  great  warrior." 

Sad  at  heart,  the  boy  went  to  his  lonely  fast  in  the  forest. 
Though  brave,  he  did  not  care  to  be  a  warrior,  for  he  loved 
not  war.  Neither  did  he  wish  to  be  a  hunter  for  he  loved 
all  animals  and  all  birds. 

The  father  went  into  the  wood  every  morning  to  visit  his 
son.  Until  the  tenth  morning,  the  youth  rose  always  from 
his  mat  in  sign  of  greeting.  Much  too  weak  to  rise  that 
morning,  he  begged  that  he  might  go  home.  On  the  eleventh 
morning  he  could  but  raise  his  hand  in  welcome.  In  the 
dawn  of  the  twelfth  day  again  came  the  father,  this  time 
with  the  promised  food,  for  the  days  of  fasting  were  accom- 
plished. 

Already  was  the  tribe  preparing  a  feast  for  its  new  warrior. 

"Come, "  called  the  father,  "here  are  your  bow  and  arrow! 
The  chief  awaits  you!" 

No  warrior  answered  the  call.  No  boy  was  lying  face 
downward  in  the  damp  shade. 

Then  mourned  the  Indian  father,  calling,  "My  son!  my 
son ! "  The  only  reply  was  the  song  of  a  bird  near  by.  Some 
evil  spirit  has  stolen  my  boy,  thought  the  father.  He  raised 

125 


Robin,  American 

his  bow  to  shoot  the  bird,  but  as  he  did  so,  the  bird  flew 
down  to  him  singing,  "  O  my  father,  a  good  spirit  has  changed 
me  into  a  bird!  See  my  red  breast!  See  how  large  and 
strong  I  am!" 

"O-pe-chee!"  called  the  father,  and  the  robin  answered, 
"Ghee!  Chee!  Chee!  Do  not  grieve  for  me!  Ask  the  chil- 
dren not  to  shoot  me!  Tell  them  often  how  I  love  them! 
Chee!  Chee!  Chee!" 

Through  all  the  years  from  that  morning  until  this  day, 
the  robin  has  loved  all  children  and  their  homes,  nesting 
always  near  them,  staying  never  in  the  forest  where  the  red 

boy  lay  and  fasted. 

ADAPTED. 

The  North  Story  of  How  the  Robin  Got  His  Red  Breast 

Far  away  in  the  cold  Northland,  there  was  once  but  a  single 
fire  to  warm  the  whole  country.  An  old  man  and  his  little 
son  kept  it  burning  by  day  and  by  night.  They  knew  that 
were  the  fire  to  go  out,  all  the  people  in  the  North  country 
would  freeze,  and  their  enemy,  the  white  bear,  have  all  the 
region  for  himself. 

One  day,  the  old  man  became  so  very  ill  he  could  no  longer 
guard  the  fire.  For  many  days  and  many  nights,  his  little 
son  cared  for  him  and  faithfully  worked  over  the  fire.  At 
last,  however,  the  boy  grew  so  tired  he  could  not  even  move 
about. 

Now  the  white  bear  also  constantly  watched  the  fire,  wait- 
ing for  the  hour  when  the  land  should  belong  to  him.  Seeing 
at  length  the  great  weariness  of  the  boy,  he  drew  near  the 
fire  and  laughed  to  himself.  Soon  he  saw  the  son  fall  asleep 
beside  his  father.  Quickly  he  jumped  upon  the  fire.  He 
beat  it  with  his  wet  paws  and  rolled  his  great  body  upon  it. 

126 


Robin,  American 

When  he  thought  the  fire  quite  out,  he  went  happily  into 
his  den. 

A  gray  robin  flying  near  had  seen  the  white  bear's  work. 
When  she  was  quite  certain  he  had  gone  away,  she  flew  down 
to  the  dying  fire  and  examined  it  with  her  little  sharp  eyes 
until  she  saw  one  clear  spark.  For  a  long  time  she  fanned 
this  spark  with  her  wings.  Her  soft  gray  breast  was  burned 
to  a  deep  red.  Still  she  worked.  Finally  from  the  spark 
she  made  a  flame.  Then  to  every  hut  in  the  Northland  she 
flew,  and  wherever  for  a  moment  she  rested  upon  the  ground, 
a  bright  fire  sprang  up.  Soon  instead  of  one  small  fire, 
many  fires  warmed  the  country. 

The  white  bear,  angry  and  disappointed,  could  do  nothing 
but  move  far  back  into  his  cave  and  growl,  for  now  he  knew 
the  Northland  would  never  be  his. 

So  do  the  people  of  the  Northland  love  the  robin  and  never 
do  they  tire  of  telling  the  children  how  he  obtained  his  red 
breast. 

ADAPTED. 

SANDPIPER,  SPOTTED 

I  always  look  forward  with  pleasure  to  their  coming 
for  they  are  to  the  water  what  swallows  are  to  the  air. 
They  fill  a  place  that  no  other  bird  can  fill,  and  leave  a 
painful  void  when  they  depart. 

ABBOTT.     Birdland  Echoes.28 

Their  flight  is  quite  peculiar.  With  one  quick  stroke 
of  the  wings  they  can  propel  themselves  a  long  distance, 
and,  by  repeating  at  intervals  the  single  vibration,  they 
appear  to  be  floating  in  air,  as  with  motionless  wing  they 

127 


Sandpiper,  Spotted 

speed  along  close  to  the  water.  When  standing  on  the 
ground  they  have  a  ludicrous  trick  of  ducking  the  head 
and  jerking  the  body,  the  purpose  of  which  is  quite  unac- 
countable, a  habit  that  has  given  them  the  expressive, 
if  not  elegant,  sobriquet  of  " teetertail, "  or  "tip-up." 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

The  birds  of  this  species  have  been  so  wantonly  and 
mercilessly  hunted  by  gunners  of  all  ages,  that  they  have 
become  extremely  shy,  and  have  lost  all  confidence  in 
man.  Yet  if  they  were  harbored,  and  protected  from 
annoyance  and  danger,  they  would  grow  tame  and  confiding, 
and  our  fields  and  gardens  would  be  full  of  them.  A  brood 
of  them  .  .  .  would  be  indefatigable  hunters  of  insects 
in  pastures  and  tilled  lands.  .  .  .  These  little  birds 
are  incapable  of  doing  any  mischief,  even  if  there  were 
fifty  of  them  on  every  farm.  They  take  no  fruit;  they 
do  not  bite  off  the  tops  of  tender  herbs,  like  poultry;  and 
they  are  interesting  in  their  ways. 

FLAGG.     A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 
CALL-NOTE  : 

A  sharp  "  weet-weet — weet-weet. "    CHAPMAN. 
"Wet-feet—wet-feet."    VAN  DYKE. 


The  Sandpiper 

Across  the  narrow  beach  we  flit, 

One  little  sandpiper  and  I; 
And  fast  I  gather,  bit  by  bit, 

The  scattered  driftwood,  bleached  and  dry. 


128 


Sandpiper,  Spotted 


The  wild  waves  reach  their  hands  for  it, 
The  wild  wind  raves,  the  tide  runs  high, 

As  up  and  down  the  beach  we  flit,— 
One  little  sandpiper  and  I. 

Above  our  heads  the  sullen  clouds 

Scud  black  and  swift  across  the  sky; 
Like  silent  ghosts  in  misty  shrouds 

Stand  out  the  white  light-houses  high. 
Almost  as  far  as  eye  can  reach 

I  see  the  close-reefed  vessels  fly, 
As  fast  we  flit  along  the  beach, — 

One  little  sandpiper  and  I. 

I  watch  him  as  he  skims  along 

Uttering  his  sweet  and  mournful  cry; 
He  starts  not  at  my  fitful  song, 

Or  flash  of  fluttering  drapery. 
He  has  no  thought  of  any  wrong; 

He  scans  me  with  a  fearless  eye. 
Staunch  friends  are  we,  well-tried  and  strong, 

The  little  sandpiper  and  I. 

Comrade,  where  wilt  thou  be  to-night 

When  the  loosed  storm  breaks  furiously? 
My  driftwood  fire  will  burn  so  bright! 

To  what  warm  shelter  canst  thou  fly? 
I  do  not  fear  for  thee,  though  wroth 

The  tempest  rushes  through  the  sky : 
For  are  we  not  God's  children  both, 

Thou,  little  sandpiper,  and  I? 

CELIA  THAXTER. 


129 


SAPSUCKER,  YELLOW-BELLIED 

Though  the  sapsucker  has  to  be  content  with  a  mottled 
black  and  white  coat,  he  wears,  besides  a  red  cap,  a  crim- 
son frontlet,  a  bib-shaped  piece  of  crimson  satin  fastened 
close  under  his  chin,  and  bordering  this  a  circlet  of  black 
satin,  below  which,  and  falling  to  his  feet,  is  his  pale  yellow 
robe.  ...  He  spends  much  of  his  time  riddling  live 
trees  with  squarish  holes,  to  which  he  returns  to  drink 
the  oozing  sap  and  feast  upon  the  insects  that  gather. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 


SPARROW,  CHIPPING.    HAIR-BIRD 

He  is  called  "hair-bird"  because  he  lines  his  nest  with 
horse  or  cow  hair,  and  when  you  think  of  the  close  observa- 
tion and  industry  it  takes  to  find  this  hair  you  will  recognize 
not  only  the  power  of  inherited  habit,  but  the  fitness  of 
the  name. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 


In  this  bird  we  have  an  instance  of  a  creature  winning 
its  way  to  our  regard  without  any  effort  on  its  part  other 
than  the  general  loveliness  of  its  disposition.  It  performs 
no  great  feats  of  flight  like  the  swallow;  it  builds  no  con- 
spicuous nest  like  the  oriole;  it  sings  but  the  simplest 
ditty  of  all  our  birds;  but  it  does  come  to  our  doors;  it 
does  salute  us  with  a  cheerful  song;  it  offers  to  be  friendly 
and  so  wins  our  hearts. 

ABBOTT.     Birdland  Echoes.28 


130 


•> 

Sparrow,  Chipping.     Hair-Bird 

The  ordinary  note  is  a  single  chip;  besides  this  there 
is  a  long,  monotonous  trill,  somewhat  like  a  watchman's 
rattle. 

M.  A.  WILLCOX.    Common  Land  Birds  of  New  England.29 


His  voice  is  no  mean  accompaniment  to  the  general 
chorus  which  may  be  heard  on  every  still  morning  before 
sunrise  during  May  and  June.  His  continued  trilling 
note  is  to  this  warbling  band  like  the  octave  flute,  as  heard 
in  a  grand  chorus  of  artificial  instruments.  The  voices 
of  numbers  of  his  species,  which  are  the  first  to  be  heard 
and  the  last  to  become  silent  in  the  morning,  serve  to 
fill  up  the  pauses  in  this  sylvan  anthem  like  a  running 
accompaniment  in  certain  musical  compositions. 

FLAGG.    A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 

Without  a  song,  save  in  its  heart,  from  twig  and  fence 
the  live-long  summer,  it  has  done  its  best  with  its  one 
note — its  one  talent — to  bring  cheer  into  the  world;  and 
justice  demands  that  it  be  judged  by  its  effort  rather  than 
by  its  accomplishment. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 


SPARROW,  FIELD 

Its  bright  rufous  color,  the  absence  of  spots  on  its  breast, 
and  especially  its  flesh-colored  bill,  are  the  best  field-marks 
of  this  misnamed  sparrow.  He  is  not  a  true  field  sparrow, 
but  prefers  old  pastures  dotted  with  clumps  of  bushes 
or  young  cedars.  There  is  something  winning  in  his 

131 


Sparrow,  Field 

appearance;  he  seems  such  a  gentle,  innocent,  dove-like 
little  bird.  His  song  is  in  keeping  with  his  character, 
being  an  unusually  clear,  plaintive  whistle,  sweeter  to 
the  lover  of  birds'  songs  than  the  voice  of  the  most  gifted 
songstress. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 


SONG  : 
Fe-o,  fe-o,  fe-o,  few,  few,  few,  fee,  fee,  fee. 


BURROUGHS. 


A  fine  strain,  beginning  with  two  or  three  high,  sustained, 
piercing  notes,  then  running  into  a  succession  of  similar, 
more  rapid  notes,  all  in  a  minor  key,  and  often  running 
down,  or  occasionally  up  the  chromatic  scale. 

SELECTED. 

The  Field  Sparrow 

A  bubble  of  music  floats 

The  slope  of  the  hillside  over; 
A  little  wandering  sparrow's  notes; 

And  the  bloom  of  yarrow  and  clover, 
And  the  smell  of  sweet-fern  and  the  bayberry  leaf, 

On  his  ripple  of  song  are  stealing; 
For  he  is  a  chartered  thief, 

The  wealth  of  the  fields  revealing. 

One  syllable,  clear  and  soft 

As  a  raindrop's  silvery  patter, 
Or  a  tinkling  fairy  bell,  heard  aloft, 

In  the  midst  of  the  merry  chatter 

132 


Sparrow,  Field 

Of  robin  and  linnet  and  wren  and  jay, — 

One  syllable,  oft  repeated : 
He  has  but  a  word  to  say, 

And  of  that  he  will  not  be  cheated. 

The  singer  I  have  not  seen; 

But  the  song  I  arise  and  follow 
The  brown  hills  over,  the  pastures  green, 

And  into  the  sunlit  hollow. 
With  a  joy  that  his  life  unto  mine  has  lent, 

I  can  feel  my  glad  eyes  glisten, 
Though  he  hides  in  his  happy  tent, 

While  I  stand  outside  and  listen. 

This  way  would  I  also  sing, 

My  dear  little  hillside  neighbor! 
A  tender  carol  of  peace  to  bring 

To  the  sunburnt  fields  of  labor 
Is  better  than  making  a  loud  ado; 

Trill  on,  amid  clover  and  yarrow! 
There's  a  heart-beat  echoing  you, 

And  blessing  you,  blithe  little  sparrow! 

LUCY  LAECOM. 

SPARROW,  FOX 

The  first  sight  of  the  bird  is  surely  a  memorable  expe- 
rience. What  with  his  large  size,  his  striking  fox-colored 
back  and  tail,  together  with  the  remarkable  combination 
of  slate-gray  and  fox  on  his  head,  he  seems  a  new,  strange 
creature. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 
133 


Sparrow,  Fox 

He  has  a  peculiar  method  of  scratching  the  ground* 
not  like  a  hen,  with  one  foot  at  a  time,  but  somehow  with 
both  at  once,  in  a  little  spasm. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 


.     .     .     .     The  russet  groundbird  bold 
With  both  slim  feet  at  once  will  lightly  rake  the  mold. 

SILL. 

Not  the  least  important  of  its  prepossessing  features 
is  its  conspicuous  good-nature,  a  hail-fellow,  well  met, 
fraternizing  at  once  with  chickadees,  snow-birds,  white- 
throats,  and  any  others  of  peaceable  disposition 

Its  musical  ability  ....  surpasses  all  other  sparrows  in 
fine  modulation  and  a  peculiarly  full,  luscious  and  flute- 
like  quality  of  tone,  tinged  with,  a  delicious  plaintiveness. 
It  is  like  a  wild  spring  flower.  If  its  notes  should  fall 
to  the  ground  and  take  root,  they  would  certainly  spring 
up  as  hepaticas  or  something  of  the  sort. 

PARKHURST.    The  Birds'  Calendar.31 


SPARROW,  GRASSHOPPER 

Its  fine  insect-like  notes  give  it  the  name  of  grasshopper 
sparrow.  They  may  be  written  pit-tuck,  zee-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e. 

Its  usual  perch,  when  singing,  is  a  fence  rail;  and  it 
does  not  often  seek  an  elevated  position. 

CHAPMAN.    Handbook  of  Birds.21 
134 


SPARROW,  SONG 

Generally  you  will  find  him  on  or  near  the  ground  at 
the  border  of  some  undergrowth,  and  if  there  be  water 
near  by,  preferably  a  meadow  brook,  his  presence  is  assured. 
When  flushed,  he  will  doubtless  make  for  the  nearest 
thicket,  "pumping"  his  tail  in  describing  his  somewhat 
jerky  flight.  Equally  diagnostic  is  the  bird's  spotted 
breast  with  the  one  larger  spot  hi  its  center. 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 

The  first  sound  of  the  song  sparrow  falls  on  the  senses 
like  a  bit  of  unexpected  sunshine  in  a  stormy  day,  and 
raises  the  temperature  of  one's  feelings  many  degrees, 
for  in  a  twinkling  it  breaks  the  spell  of  winter. 

PARKHURST.    The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

Some  birds  are  poets  and  sing  all  summer.  They  are 
the  true  singers.  Any  man  can  write  verses  in  the  love 

season We  are  most  interested  in  those  birds 

that  sing  for  the  love  of  music  and  not  of  their  mates; 
who  meditate  their  strains  and  amuse  themselves  with 
singing;  the  birds  whose  strains  are  of  deeper  sentiment. 

THOREAU. 


Their  song  bears  the  test  of  every  day;  for  while  it  is 
not  brilliant,  it  has  all  the  sweetness  of  the  gentle  bird's 
own  simple  nature,  and  heard  far  from  home  stirs  chords 
that  the  more  brilliant  strangers  do  not  touch.  Further- 
more the  student  who  is  interested  in  noting  bird  songs, 
will  find  the  song  sparrow's  well  worth  study,  for  it  varies 

135 


Sparrow,  Song 

remarkably.  Fifteen  varieties  of  its  song  have  been  noted 
in  one  week,  and  the  same  individual  often  has  a  number 
of  tunes  in  his  repertoire. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

You  will  find  that  he  repeats  one  strain  for  perhaps  a 
dozen  times,  without  the  change  of  a  note;  then  suddenly 
he  comes  out  with  a  song  entirely  different.  This  second 
song  he  will  in  turn  drop  for  a  third  and  so  on.  The  bird 
acts,  for  all  the  world,  as  if  he  were  singing  hymns,  of  so 
many  verses  each,  one  after  another. 

TORREY.     Every  Day  Birds.18 


The  sparrow  ....  assured  all  the  plain  Quakers 
within  hearing  that  he  was  a  good  Pres-pres-pres-pres- 
pres-by-te-ri-an. 

ABBOTT.     Birds  About  Us.27 


The  song  sparrow  is  said  to  be  imitated  in  New  Bedford 
thus:  " Maids,  maids,  maids, — hang  on  your  tea-kettle 
— ettle,  ettle,  ettle,  ettle. 

THOREAU. 

I  thought  the  sparrow's  note  from  heaven, 
Singing  at  dawn  on  the  alder  bough; 
I  brought  him  home,  in  his  nest,  at  even; 
He  sings  the  song,  but  it  cheers  not  now, 
For  I  did  not  bring  home  the  river  and  sky;— 
He  sang  to  my  ear, — they  sang  to  my  eye. 

EMERSON. 


136 


Sparrow,  Song 

The  Song  Sparrow 

Sunshine  set  to  music ! 

Hear  the  sparrow  sing! 
In  his  note  is  freshness 

Of  the  new-born  Spring: 
In  his  trill  delicious 

Summer  overflows — 
Whiteness  of  the  lily, 

Sweetness  of  the  rose. 


Splendor  of  the  sunrise, 

Fragrance  of  the  breeze, 
Crystal  of  the  brooklet 

Trickling  under  trees, 
Over  moss  and  pebbles — 

Hark!  you  have  them  all 
Prophesied  and  chanted 

In  the  sparrow's  call. 

SELECTED. 

Song  Sparrow 

A  few  notes,  three  or  four, 
Repeated  o'er  and  o'er 

In  low  soft,  liquid  strains, 
Make  all  thy  hymn  of  praise, 
Sing  all  love's  tender  lays, 

Sing  even  love's  sweet  pains. 

Thy  fond  mate  sitting  near 
Is  glad  as  I  to  hear 

That  triumph  of  thine  art; 


137 


Sparrow,  Song 


Just  that  same  song  of  thine, 
Sung  over  line  by  line, 

Won  her  grandmother's  heart. 


SELECTED. 


The  Song  Sparrow 

He  does  not  wear  a  Joseph's  coat 
Of  many  colours,  smart  and  gay; 
His  suit  is  Quaker  brown  and  gray, 

With  darker  patches  at  his  throat. 
And  yet  of  all  the  well-dressed  throng 
Not  one  can  sing  so  brave  a  song. 

It  makes  the  pride  of  looks  appear 

A  vain  and  foolish  thing  to  hear 

His  "Sweet-sweet-sweet-very  merry  cheer." 


I  like  the  tune,  I  like  the  words; 

They  seem  so  true,  so  free  from  art, 

So  friendly,  and  so  full  of  heart, 
That  if  but  one  of  all  the  birds 

Could  be  my  comrade  everywhere, 

My  little  brother  of  the  air, 
This  is  the  one  I'd  choose,  my  dear, 
Because  he'd  bless  me,  every  year, 
With  "Sweet-sweet-sweet-very  merry  cheer." 

HENRY  VAN  DYKE. 
138 


Sparrow,  Song 

The  Myth  of  the  Song  Sparrow 

His  mother  was  the  Brook,  his  sisters  were  the  Reeds, 
And  they  every  one  applauded  when  he  sang  about  his 

deeds. 
His  vest  was  white,  his  mantle  brown,  as  clear  as  they  could 

be, 
And  his  songs  were  fairly  bubbling  o'er  with  melody  and 

glee. 
But*an  envious  Neighbor  splashed  with  mud  our  Brownie's 

coat  and  vest, 

And  then  a  final  handful  threw  that  stuck  upon  his  breast. 
The  Brook-bird's  mother  did  her  best  to  wash  the  stains 

away, 
But  there  they  stuck,  and,  as  it  seems,  are  very  like  to 

stay, 
And  so  he  wears  the  splashes  and  the  mud  blotch  as  you 

see, 

But  his  songs  are  bubbling  over  still  with  melody  and  glee. 

ERNEST  THOMPSON  SETON. 

"Wood  Myth  and  Fable. "—Century  Company,  1905. 
This  poem  is  printed  by  special  permission  of  the  author. 

SPARROW,  TREE 

Tree  sparrows  wear  a  small  black  dot  on  the  center  of 
their  otherwise  unmarked  breasts,  a  badge  which  will 
aid  in  their  identification. 

I  like  to  see  them  feasting  on  the  seed  stalks  above 
the  crust,  and  to  hear  their  chorus  of  merry,  tinkling  notes, 
like  sparkling  frost  crystals  turned  to  music.  Too-la-it, 
too-la-ti,  each  one  calls. 

CHAPMAN.    Handbook  of  Birds.21 

139 


Sparrow,  Tree 

This  bird  has  ever  been  a  favorite  of  mine,  not  because 
there  is  so  much  of  him  as  so  much  of  them.  It  is  a  case 
where  one  is  not  as  good  as  a  hundred,  but  just  the  oppo- 
site, and  a  hundred,  fortunately,  are  easier  found  than 
one.  Nuttall  speaks  of  two  or  three  singing  together. 
I  have  heard  a  full  chorus,  and  it  is  then  music  that  makes 
you  forget  the  "deadness"  of  the  season. 

ABBOTT.     Birds  About  Us.27 

The  tree  sparrow  is  a  striking  illustration  of  the  good 
done  by  seed-eating  birds,  for  Professor  Beal  has  calculated 
that  in  Iowa  alone  this  little  bird  destroys  eight  hundred 
and  seventy-five  tons  of  noxious  weed-seeds  every  year. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 
SPARROW,  VESPER.  BAY-WINGED  BUNTING 

There  are  few  grassy  fields,  I  imagine,  where  this  bird 
is  not  found,  and  you  are  not  likely  to  mistake  it,  for  it 
shows  two  white  feathers  in  its  tail  when  flying.  It  is 
a  ground  bird  the  greater  part  of  each  day,  and  chirps 
when  startled,  like  any  other  " chippy";  but  it  is  a  master 
musician  for  all  that,  and,  singing  at  or  after  sundown, 
has  been  aptly  called  the  vesper-sparrow. 

ABBOTT.     Birds  About  Us.27 

The  vesper  sparrow  likes  a  drier  field  than  the  song 
sparrow,  and  is  especially  noticeable  for  the  trick  of  run- 
ning along  the  path  or  the  road  directly  in  front  of  the 
traveler. 

TORREY.     Every  Day  Birds.18 

140 


Sparrow,  Vesper.     Bay-Winged  Bunting 

Sometimes  when  started  from  the  nest,  the  female 
simulates  lameness  with  remarkable  dexterity,  so  as  very 
readily  to  draw  off  the  attention  of  her  enemies  or  intruders. 

Nuttall's  Ornithology.26 

It  is  impossible  to  satisfactorily  describe  this  song.  It 
resembles  that  of  the  song  sparrow,  but  is  finer  and  wilder. 
It  opens  with  one  low  note,  followed  by  two  higher  ones, 
while  the  song  sparrow  begins  with  three  notes,  all  of 
the  same  kind. 

CHAPMAN.    Bird  Life.22 

On  every  side,  near  and  remote,  from  out  the  short 
grass  which  the  herds  are  cropping,  the  strain  rises.  Two 
or  three  long,  silver  notes  of  peace  and  rest,  ending  in  some 
subdued  trills  and  quavers.  .  .  .  Such  unambitious, 
quiet,  unconscious  melody!  It  is  one  of  the  most  charac- 
teristic sounds  hi  Nature.  The  grass,  the  stones,  the  stubble, 
the  furrow,  the  quiet  herds,  and  the  warm  twilight  among 
the  hills  are  all  subtilely  expressed  in  this  song. 

BURROUGHS.    Wake  Robin.5 

How  different  from  the  ecstatic  outburst  of  the  song 
sparrow!  Pensive,  but  not  sad,  its  long-drawn  silvery 
notes  continue  in  quavers  that  float  off  unended  like  a 
trail  of  mist.  The  song  is  suggestive  of  the  thoughts 
that  must  come  at  evening  to  some  New  England  saint 
of  humble  station  after  a  well-spent,  soul-uplifting  day. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

141 


Sparrow,  Vesper.     Bay-Winged  Bunting 
The  Vesper  Sparrow 

It  comes  from  childhood's  land, 

Where  summer  days  are  long 
And  summer  eves  are  bland, — 

A  lulling  good-night  song. 

Upon  a  pasture  stone, 

Against  the  fading  west, 
A  small  bird  sings  alone, 

Then  dives  and  finds  his  nest. 

The  evening  star  has  heard, 

And  flutters  into  sight; 
O  childhood's  vesper-bird, 

My  heart  calls  back,  good-night. 

EDITH  M.  THOMAS. 

SPARROW,  WHITE-CROWNED 

Sometimes  one  of  these  distinguished-looking  birds 
will  be  discovered  in  a  flock  of  white-throats.  You  can 
tell  him  from  his  cousins  at  a  glance,  because  he  has  not 
the  white  patch  under  his  chin.  His  crown  serves  still 
further  to  distinguish  him.  It  is  as  striking  as  a  soldier's 
cap.  Moreover  he  attracts  attention  by  his  general  bearing 

which  is  unmistakably  that  of  an  aristocrat 

Mr.  Burroughs  is  enthusiastic  over  the  white-crown.  He 
says:  "He  is  the  rarest  and  most  beautiful  of  the  sparrow 
kind.  He  is  crowned  as  some  hero  or  victor  in  the  games. " 

FLORENCE  A.  MEREIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

142 


SPARROW,  WHITE-THROATED.  PEABODY 
BIRD 

In  a  family  not  distinguished  for  good  looks,  the  white- 
throated  sparrow  is  conspicuously  handsome,  especially 
after  the  spring  moult.  The  black,  white  and  yellow 
markings  on  his  head  are  now  clear  and  beautiful.  His 
figure  is  plump  and  aristocratic. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.28 

His  song  consists  of  "two  long  clear  notes  followed 
by  two  or  three  triplets. "  It  has  been  variously  translated 
as  "Old-Sam-Peabody-Peabody-Peabody";  "Swe-e-et  Can- 
a-da,  Can-a-da,  Can-a-da";  "All  day,  whit-tle-ing,  whit-tle- 
ing,  whit-tle-ing";  and  William  Hamilton  Gibson  tells 
of  a  perplexed  husbandman,  Peverly  by  name,  who,  hesita- 
ting at  his  choice  of  crops,  heard  him  advise,  "  Sow  wheat, 
Pev-er-ly,  Pev-er-ly,  Pev-er-ly." 

The  Sing- Away  Bird 

Have  you  ever  heard  of  the  Sing-away  bird, 

That  sings  where  the  Runaway  river 
Runs  down  with  its  rills  from  the  bald-headed  hills 
That  stand  in  the  sunshine  and  shiver? 

"Oh,  sing!  sing-away!  sing-away!" 
How  the  pines  and  the  birches  are  stirred 
By  the  trill  of  the  Sing-away  bird ! 

And  the  bald-headed  hills,  with  their  rocks  and  their  rills, 

To  the  tune  of  his  raptures  are  ringing; 
And  their  faces  grow  young,  all  the  gray  mists  among, 

While  the  forests  break  forth  into  singing. 
"Oh,  sing!  sing-away!  sing-away!" 

And  the  river  runs  singing  along; 

And  the  flying  winds  catch  up  the  song. 

143 


Sparrow,  White-Throated.     Peabody  Bird 

'Twas  a  white-throated  sparrow,  that  sped  a  light  arrow 

Of  song  from  his  musical  quiver, 
And  it  pierced  with  its  spell  every  valley  and  dell 

On  the  banks  of  the  Runaway  river. 
"Oh,  sing!  sing-away!  sing-away!" 

The  song  of  the  wild  singer  had 

The  sound  of  a  soul  that  is  glad. 

And,  beneath  the  glad  sun,  every  glad-hearted  one 

Sets  the  world  to  the  tune  of  his  gladness : 
The  swift  rivers  sing  it,  the  wild  breezes  wing  it, 

Till  Earth  loses  thought  of  her  sadness. 
"Oh,  sing!  sing-away!  sing-away!" 

Oh,  sing,  happy  soul,  to  joy's  Giver, — 

Sing  on,  by  Time's  Runaway  River! 

LUCY  LARCOM. 


SWALLOW,  BANK.    SAND  MARTIN 

This  swallow  is  the  only  one  of  the  family  which  still 
retains  its  old  nesting  habits,  scorning  the  devices  provided 
by  man  which  have  proved  so  attractive  to  its  brothers. 

They  fly  much  like  other  swallows,  but  never  wander 
far  from  their  nesting-places.  Their  nests  are  placed  at  the 
end  of  burrows  dug  out  by  the  birds  in  sand-banks.  The 
vicinity  of  water  is  usually  preferred,  but  railway  and 
road  cuttings  are  sometimes  chosen.  The  ground  must  be 
such  as  will  not  cave  in. 

M.  A.  WILLCOX.     Common  Land  Birds  of  New  England.29 

144 


Swallow,  Bank.     Sand  Martin 

We  draw  an  invidious  distinction  when  we  say  that 
the  bank  swallow  is  prettier  than  the  cliff  swallow  .  .  . 
or  otherwise  set  one  above  another.  They  are  all  as  pretty 
as  pictures,  and  those  that  are  not  brilliant  in  color  possess 
unequalled  grace,  for  a  swallow  in  the  air  is  the  purest 
poetry  of  motion;  it  is  as  if  it  and  the  air  were  one.  You 
cannot  take  the  bird  from  the  sky  without  dimming  all 
its  lustre.  It  is  not  strange  that  the  Delaware  Indians 
called  these  birds  " feathered  spirits." 

ABBOTT.    Birdland  Echoes.28 

The  Origin  of  Bank  Swallows 

AN    ESKIMO    STORY. 

Once  upon  a  time,  some  exceedingly  wise  children  were 
playing  on  the  edge  of  a  cliff  near  their  native  village.  Sud- 
denly while  building  mud  houses,  they  were  changed  into 
swallows.  Yet  with  all  their  change  of  body  and  manner 
of  living,  they  remembered  their  last  occupation  as  children 
and  still  made  houses  on  the  cliff. 

The  memory  of  that  last  hour  of  childish  play  has  been 
given  to  all  their  descendants,  for,  even  to  this  day  they 

come  to  a  cliff  to  build  their  nests  of  mud. 

ADAPTED. 

SWALLOW,  BARN 

Barn  swallows  take  first  rank  among  a  family  of  birds 
famous  for  their  power  of  flight.  While  their  relatives 
are  circling  about  feeding  on  insects  in  the  air  above, 
they  capture  their  prey  nearer  the  ground,  skimming 
low  over  the  fields,  turning  quickly  to  right  or  left,  up 
or  down,  and  pursuing  their  erratic  course  with  marvelous 
ease  and  grace.  CHAPMAN.  Handbook  of  Birds.21 

145 


Swallow,  Barn 

As  he  sweeps  near  us,  the  rich  metallic  sheen  of  his 
back  is  well  seen;  and  as  he  flies  up  to  a  telegraph  wire, 
his  long  forked  tail  and  deep  chocolate  breast  identify 
him  beyond  question. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

None  of  the  swallows  have  a  song,  but  their  feelings 
effervesce  in  lively  clinking  notes  that  are  not  unmusical. 
They  are  in  less  need  of  a  song  than  most  other  birds, 
for  they  can  work  off  their  feelings  through  their  dashing 
and  tireless  flight. 

PARKHURST.    The  Birds'  Calendar.31 


The  young  often  utter  a  series  of  twitters,  which  resemble 
the  laugh  of  a  tickled  child. 

MINOT.     Land  and  Game  Birds.20 

Wheeling  about  our  barns  and  houses,  skimming  over 
the  fields,  its  bright  sides  flashing  in  the  sunlight,  playing 
lt cross-tag"  with  its  friends  at  evening,  when  the  insects 
too  are  on  the  wing,  gyrating,  darting  and  gliding  through 
the  air,  it  is  no  more  possible  to  adequately  describe  the 
exquisite  grace  of  the  swallow's  flight,  than  the  glistening 
buff  of  his  breast.  This  swallow  is  peculiarly  American. 

NELTJE  BLANCH  AN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

The  dandelion  tells  me  when  to  look  for  the  swallow. 

BURROUGHS.    Wake  Robin.5 


146 


Swallow,  Barn 


Swallows  thicken  through  the  air, 
Curve  and  drift  of  plumy  brown, 
Wafting,  showering  everywhere, 
Melody's  light  seed-notes  down. 

LUCY  LARCOM. 

The  thin-winged  swallow,  skating  on  the  air. 

GIBSON. 

The  Swallow 

At  play  in  April  skies  that  spread 
Their  azure  depths  above  my  head 
As  onward  to  the  woods  I  sped, 

I  heard  the  swallow  twitter; 
O  skater  in  the  fields  of  air 
On  steely  wings  that  sweep  and  dare, 
To  gain  these  scenes  thy  only  care, 

Nor  fear  the  winds  are  bitter. 

Ah,  well  I  know  thy  deep-dyed  vest, 
Thy  burnished  wing,  thy  feathered  nest, 
Thy  lyric  flight  at  love's  behest, 

And  all  thy  ways  so  airy; 
Thou  art  a  nursling  of  the  air, 
No  earthly  food  makes  up  thy  fare 
But  soaring  things  both  frail  and  rare, 

Fit  diet  of  a  fairy. 

JOHN  BURROUGHS. 

147 


SWALLOW,  CLIFF  or  EAVE 

The   cliff  swallows,   as  their  name    implies, 

naturally  fix  their  queer  bottle-nosed  nest  to  the  perpen- 
dicular faces  of  rocks  and  hard  embankments;  and  have 
latterly  acquired  the  name  of  eave  swallows  from  the 
circumstance  that  they  have  readily  availed  themselves  of 
the  eligible  nesting  sites  afforded  by  the  walls  of  houses 
under  shelter  of  the  eaves. 

STEARNS.     New  England  Bird  Life.30 


They  sometimes  extend  nearly  across  the  whole  side 
of  a  roof,  resembling  in  some  degree  a  long  row  of  hornets' 
nests.  They  are  made  of  clay  and  mud  without  inter- 
mixture of  other  substances  (" bricks  without  straw"),  and 
lined  with  grass  and  feathers. 

FLAGG.    A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 


The  light  rump  and  whitish  forehead  easily  distinguish 
it  from  the  other  swallows. 

There  is  no  evil  blended  with  the  many  benefits  swallows 
confer  upon  man.  They  destroy  the  insects  that  annoy 
his  cattle,  injure  his  fruit  trees,  sting  his  fruit  or  molest 
his  cattle. 

BREWER. 

.    .    .  the  swallow  of  the  mud  nest, 
He  with  blue  and  chestnut  breastplate, 
He  with  snow  upon  his  forehead. 

BOLLES.     Chocorua's  Tenants.19 


148 


Swallow,  Cliff  or  Eave 

The  Swallows 

Gallant  and  gay  in  their  doublets  gray, 
All  at  a  flash  like  the  darting  of  flame, 

Chattering  Arabic,  African,  Indian — 

Certain  of  springtime,  the  swallows  came! 

Doublets  of  gray  silk  and  surcoats  of  purple, 
And  ruffs  of  russet  round  each  little  throat, 

Wearing  such  garb  they  had  crossed  the  waters, 
Mariners  sailing  with  never  a  boat. 

EDWIN  ARNOLD. 
SWALLOW,  TREE  or  WHITE-BELLIED 

These  swallows  usually  announce  spring  to  the  people 
of  Boston  and  its  vicinity  in  the  first  week  of  April;  but 
after  their  arrival  they  are  sometimes  obliged,  when  dis- 
couraged by  the  cold,  to  retreat  temporarily  southward 
to  a  warmer  latitude.  As  our  ancestors  long  since  dis- 
covered this  fact  in  relation  to  their  swallows,  they  have 
handed  down  to  us  the  wise  proverb  that  "One  swallow 
does  not  make  a  summer." 

MINOT.     Land  and  Game  Birds.20 

Their  predilection  for  the  borders  of  lakes  and  ponds 
led  some  of  the  ancient  writers  to  believe  that  swallows 
retired  to  the  bottom  of  the  water  during  the  winter; 
and  some  fishermen  on  the  coast  of  the  Baltic  pretended 
to  have  taken  them  up  in  their  nets  in  large  knots,  cling- 
ing together  by  the  bills  and  claws  in  a  state  of  torpidity. 

NuttalPs  Ornithology.26 
149 


Swallow,  Tree  or  White-Bellied 

Their  white  breasts  flash  in  the  sunlight,  and  it  is  only 
when  they  dart  near  you,  and  skim  close  along  the  surface 
of  the  water,  that  you  discover  their  backs  to  be  not  black, 
but  rich  dark  green,  glossy  to  iridescence. 

NELTJE  BLANCH  AN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

They  are  more  quarrelsome  and  less  sociable  in  the 
breeding  season  than  the  barn  swallow.  In  the  spring 
their  protracted,  angry  contentions  and  rapid  chatter  are 
often  heard  in  the  air. 

Nuttall's  Ornithology.26 

Unlike  most  swallows,  they  vary  their  insect  diet  with 
berries,  being  especially  fond  of  bay-berries. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

The  tree  swallows  are  passing  through  a  transition 
period  in  their  history.  Some  accept  the  houses  or  boxes 
erected  by  man  as  substitutes  for  the  holes  in  trees  or 
stumps  which  others  still  use. 

CHAPMAN.    Handbook  of  Birds.21 
SWIFT,  CHIMNEY 

No  one  ever  saw  him  sitting  on  a  perch  or  walking  on 
the  ground.  In  fact,  his  wings  are  so  long,  and  his  legs 
so  short  and  weak,  that  if  he  were  to  alight  on  the  ground, 
he  would  probably  never  be  able  to  rise  in  the  air  again. 

TORREY.     Every  Day  Birds.18 
150 


Swift,  Chimney 

One  might  infer  that  they  had  contracted  their  soot- 
brown  color  by  contact  with  chimneys  for  several  genera- 
tions, until  it  became  ingrained. 

They  are  well  named  "swifts,"  as  they  are  not  surpassed, 
and  are  rarely  equalled,  by  any  other  birds  in  their  power 
of  flight,  sometimes  covering  a  thousand  miles  in  twenty- 
four  hours. 

PARKHURST.    The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

Their  wings  are  developed  till   they    look    like   strips   of 

cardboard  more  than  [bunches  of  feathers On 

the  other  hand,  their  feet,  like  those  of  Chinese  ladies, 
are  so  little  used  that  they  are  small  and  weak.  They 
serve  merely  as  picture  hooks,  for  the  birds  hook  them 
over  the  edge  of  the  nest  or  into  a  crack  in  the  chimney, 
and  proceed  to  go  to  sleep  hanging  like  pictures  on  a 

wall The*  tail  comes  in  to  act  as  a  prop,  being 

bent  under  the  bird  to  brace  against  the  wall.  Doubtless, 
by  this  habit,  the  end  of  the  tail  has  gradually  lost  its 
feathery  character,  the  webbing  being  worn  off,  till  now 
only  the  stiff,  bone-like  quills  of  the  feathers  remain.  These 
they  use  like  little  awls,  to  stick  into  the  bricks. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

Major  Bendire  says  that  few  birds  are  more  devoted  to 
their  young  than  the  chimney  swift,  a  case  being  recorded 
where  the  parent  was  seen  to  enter  a  chimney  in  a  burning 
house,  even  after  the  entire  roof  was  a  mass  of  flames, 
preferring  to  perish  with  its  offspring  rather  than  forsake 
them. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 
151 


TANAGER,  SCARLET 

That  bit  of  bright  scarlet  on  yonder  dead  hemlock, 
glowing  like  a  live  coal  against  the  dark  background, 
seeming  almost  too  brilliant  for  the  severe  northern  climate, 
is  the  scarlet  tanager.  I  almost  fear  he  will  kindle  the 
dry  limb  on  which  he  alights. 

BURROUGHS.     Wake  Robin.5 

Seen  against  the  leafy  background,  light  seems  to  radiate 
from  his  glowing  feathers. 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 

We  are  first  guided  to  him  by  his  call  and  song.  They 
are  peculiar  and  both  have  a  rare  woods  flavor.  The 
call  is  a  rapidly  uttered  chip-chirr.  The  song  is  a  loud, 
cheery,  rhythmical  carol,  suggesting  the  song  of  the  robin. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.    Chapman's  Handbook  of  Birds.21 

Mounting  to  the  topmost  branch,  often  of  a  dead  or 
partially  dead  tree,  he  sings,  "Look-up,  way-up,  look-ai- 
me,  tree-top. " 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life.22 

The  redbird  spread  his  sable  wing, 

And  showed  his  side  of  flame.  EMERSON. 


THRASHER,  BROWN.    BROWN  THRUSH 

He  may  be  recognized  at  a  considerable  distance,  from 
his  habit  of  flirting  his  tail  while  perched,  much  after 
the  fashion  of  the  catbird.  And  if  one  gets  a  nearer  view, 

152 


Thrasher,  Brown.     Brown  Thrush 

he  may  be  distinguished  from  all  other  thrush-like  birds 
by  the  two  white  wing-bars  and  the  extraordinarily  long 
tail. 


M.  A.  WILLCOX.     Common  Land  Birds  of  New  England.29 

He  is  an  active,  suspicious  bird,  who  does  not  like  to 
be  watched,  and  expresses  his  annoyance  with  an  unpleasant 
kissing  note  or  sharply  whistled  wheeu. 

CHAPMAN.    Handbook  of  Birds.21 

His  song  is  a  sort  of  recitative,  often  resembling  spoken 
words  rather  than  musical  notes,  many  of  which  are  short 

and   guttural An  ingenious  shoemaker  .... 

gave  me  the  following  words:  "Look  up,  look  up, — Glory 
to  God,  glory  to  God, — Hallelujah,  Amen,  Videlicet. " 

FLAGG.    A  Year  With  the  Birds.26 

While  you  are  planting  the  seed,  he  cries,  "Drop  it, 
drop  it, — cover  it  up,  cover  it  up, — pull  it  up,  pull  it  up 
pull  it  up. " 

THOREAU. 

When  he  sings  he  takes  the  very  top  of  a  tree,  although 
usually  it  is  not  a  tall  one.  There  he  stands  by  the  half- 
hour  together,  head  up  and  tail  down,  pouring  out  a  flood 
of  music;  sounds  of  all  sorts,  high  notes  and  low  notes, 
smooth  notes  and  rough  notes,  all  jumbled  together  in 
the  craziest  fashion,  as  if  the  musician  were  really  beside 
himself.  It  is  a  performance  worth  buying  a  ticket  for 
and  going  miles  to  hear. 

TORREY.    Every  Day  Birds.18 

153 


Thrasher,  Brown.     Brown  Thrush 

The  brown  thrasher  calls  half  furtively,  half  archly, 
from  the  tree-top  back  in  the  bushy  pastures:  " Croquet, 
croquet,  hit  it,  hit  it,  come  to  me,  come  to  me,  tight  it, 
tight  it,  you're  out,  you're  out." 

BURROUGHS.    Pepacton.9 

Cherruwit,  cherruwit,  go  ahead,  go  ahead,  give  it  to 
him,  give  it  to  him,  etc. 

THOREAU.    Excursions.17 

As  affording  some  light  on  the  popular  name  of  "  thrasher, " 
I  might  mention  the  remark  of  a  certain  matter-of-fact 
rustic  who  answered  my  query  for  enlightenment  upon 
the  subject — "  Some  fokes  sez  it's  becuz  he's  aliz  a-thrashin' 
around  so  in  the  bushes, 'n  'others  sez  it's  becuz  he's  ferever 
tellin'  uv  'em  to  'thrash  it,  thrash  it!'  But  thet's  all 
puppy  cut;  he  sez  enny  thing  you  like." 

GIBSON.     Strolls  by  Starlight  and  Sunshine.33 

The  wise  thrush,  he  sings  each  song  twice  over, 

Lest  you  fear  he  never  could  recapture 

That  first  fine  careless  rapture.  SELECTED. 

The  Brown  Thrush 

"There's  a  merry  brown  thrush  sitting  up  in  the  tree, 

He's  singing  to  me!  He's  singing  to  me!" 
And  what  does  he  say,  little  girl,  little  boy? 
"Oh,  the  world's  running. over  with  joy! 
Don't  you  hear?  don't  you  see? 

Hush!  Look!  In  my  tree 
I'm  as  happy,  as  happy  can  be!" 

154 


Thrasher,  Brown.     Brown  Thrush 

And  the  brown  thrush  keeps  singing,  "  A  nest  do  you  see, 

And  five  eggs,  hid  by  me  in  the  jumper  tree? 
Don't  meddle!  don't  touch!  little  girl,  little  boy, 
Or  the  world  will  lose  some  of  its  joy! 
Now  I'm  glad,  now  I'm  free! 
And  I  always  shall  be, 
If  you  never  bring  sorrow  to  me. " 

So  the  merry  brown  thrush  sings  away  in  the  tree, 

To  you  and  to  me,  to  you  and  to  me; 
And  he  sings  all  the  day,  little  girl,  little  boy, 
"Oh,  the  world's  running  over  with  joy! 
But  long  it  won't  be, 

Don't  you  know?  don't  you  see? 
Unless  we  are  as  good  as  can  be!" 

LUCY  LARCOM. 


THRUSH,  HERMIT 

As  the  name  implies,  it  is  the  most  secretive  of  the 
thrushes  in  its  habits,  and  would  be  little  known  were 
it  not  so  abundant  and  so  widely  dispersed  during  the 
migrations. 

STEARNS.    New  England  Bird  Life.30 

In  the  middle  and  eastern  states,  during  the  period  of 
song,  it  is  found  only  in  the  deepest  and  most  remote 
forests,  usually  in  damp  and  swampy  localities.  On  this 
account  the  people  in  the  Adirondack  region  call  it  the 
"Swamp  Angel." 

BURROUGHS.     Wake  Robin.5 


155 


Thrush,  Hermit 

The  hermit  has  a  distinguishing  reddish  tail,  which  it 
raises  and  lowers  as  it  gives  its  characteristic  call  of  chuck. 

Its  song  is  one  for  which  many  of  nature's  devotees 
make  long  pilgrimages;  and  to  my  mind  it  excels  that 
of  any  bird  I  have  ever  heard,  being,  above  all  others, 
serene  and  uplifting. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

In  full  song  his  voice  is  rich  and  sonorous;  and  a  softer 
tone,  which  I  heard  soon  after  his  arrival,  was  like  the 
finest  thread  of  pure  gold. 

PARKHURST.    The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

It  is  perhaps  more  of  an  evening  than  a  morning  hymn, 
though  I  hear  it  at  all  hours  of  the  day.  It  is  very  simple, 
and  I  can  hardly  tell  the  secret  of  its  charm.  "O  spheral, 
spheral!"  he  seems  to  say:  "O  holy,  holy!  O  clear  away, 
clear  away!  O  clear  up,  clear  up!"  interspersed  with 

the  finest  trills  and  the  most  delicate  preludes 

It  suggests  no  passion  or  emotion, —  nothing  personal, — 
but  seems  to  be  the  voice  of  that  calm,  sweet  solemnity 
one  attains  to  in  his  best  moments. 

BURROUGHS.    Wake  Robin.5 

Unrivaled  one,  the  hermit-thrush, 

Solitary,  singing  in  the  west.  SELECTED. 

Then  in  that  solemn  hour  I  hear 

A  hymn  that  comes  so  sweet  and  clear, 

So  pure  a  tone,  it  seems  to  be 

A  bit  of  heaven's  minstrelsy.  SELECTED. 

156 


THRUSH,  WOOD 

Its  large  size,  heavily  spotted  breast  and  the  rich  golden 
brown  of  its  back,  brightest  on  its  head,  distinguish  it 
from  the  other  thrushes. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

He  is  truly  a  royal  minstrel,  and  considering  his  liberal 
distribution  throughout  our  Atlantic  seaboard,  perhaps 
contributes  more  than  any  other  bird  to  our  sylvan  melody. 

BURROUGHS.    Wake  Robin.5 

His  calm,  restful  song  rings  through  the  woods  like  a 
hymn  of  praise  rising  pure  and  clear  from  a  thankful  heart. 
It  is  a  message  of  hope  and  good  cheer  in  the  morning, 
a  benediction  at  the  close  of  day. 

The  flute-like  opening  notes,  "Come  to  me,"  are  an 
invitation  to  his  haunts;  a  call  from  Nature  to  yield  our- 
selves to  the  ennobling  influences  of  the  forest. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 

The  wood  thrush,  having  mounted  to  a  perch  so  high 
that  his  outbursts  of  heavenly  music  shall  not  be  confined 
to  earth  or  lost  in  the  surrounding  shrubbery,  pours  out 
such  a  melody  that  he  seems  at  every  utterance  "to  be 
endeavoring  to  recall  his  very  soul,  that  fled  to  heaven 
on  the  winged  notes  of  his  last  liquid  melody. " 

MINOT.     Land  and  Game  Birds.20 

There  may  be  sweeter  sounds  the  wide  world  over, 
but  he  is  blessed  that  has  heard  this  one. 

ABBOTT.     Birds  About  Us.27 


157 


Thrush,  Wood 

He  willy  willy — ha  willy  willy — 0  willy  O. 

EMERSON. 

The  bell  of  the  wood  thrush. 

GIBSON. 

Hush! 

'Tis  the  first  melting  gush, 

Then  slowly — 

In  notes  by  all  of  earth  untaught, 

Each  tone  it  seems  a  liquid  thought, 

He  pours  rich  meanings  all  unsought, 

Most  holy.  SELECTED. 

VEERY.    WILSON'S  THRUSH.    TAWNY 
THRUSH 

This  is  to  be  distinguished  from  the  other  thrushes  by 
the  uniform  color  of  the  upper  parts,  the  absence  of  an 
eye-ring  and  the  faintly  spotted  breast. 

They  can  run  over  the  ground  with  rapidity,  but  in 
the  woods  they  usually  poke  about  quietly  among  the 
pine  needles  and  dead  leaves,  where  they  can  find  the 

insects    on    which    they    feed When    disturbed, 

while  thus  busied,  they  generally  fly  to  a  bush  near  the 
spot,  and  sit  there  quite  motionless,  occasionally  uttering 
their  chirp,  until  it  seems  safe  to  return  to  their  inter- 
rupted occupation. 

MINOT.     Land  and  Game  Birds.20 


158 


Veery.     Wilson's  Thrush.     Tawny  Thrush 

Until  this  little  bird  arrives,  I  feel  as  the  audience  do 
at  a  concert  before  the  chief  singer  appears,  while  the 
other  performers  are  vainly  endeavoring  to  soothe  them 
by  their  inferior  attempts. 

FLAGG.      A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 

The  veery's  usual  call-note  is  a  clearly  whistled  wheeu, 
which  can  be  closely  imitated;  his  song  is  a  weird,  ringing 
monotone  of  blended  alto  and  soprano  tones.  Neither 
notes  nor  letters  can  tell  one  of  its  peculiar  quality;  it 
has  neither  break  nor  pause,  and  seems  to  emanate  from  no 
one  place.  If  you  can  imagine  the  syllable  vee-r-r-hu 
repeated  eight  or  nine  times  around  a  series  of  intertwining 
circles,  the  description  might  enable  you  to  recognize 
the  veery's  song. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 

Hold  a  stiff  beech-leaf  at  right  angles  to  your  lips,  and 
whistle  softly  a  series  of  descending  whee-u,  whee-u,  whee- 
whee-u's,  and  you  will  get  a  little  of  the  reed-like  quality 
and  phrasing  of  the  veery's  song. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

It  is  one  of  the  simplest  strains  to  be  heard — as  simple 
as  the  curves  in  form,  delighting  from  the  pure  element 
of  harmony  and  beauty  it  contains,  and  not  from  any 
novel  or  fantastic  modulation  of  it, — thus  contrasting 
strongly  with  such  rollicking,  hilarious  songsters  as  the 
bobolink. 

BURROUGHS.    Wake  Robin.5 

159 


Veery.     Wilson's  Thrush.     Tawny  Thrush 

The  veery  .  .  .  .sings  at  night  also,  and  its  weird, 
sweet  strains  floating  through  the  woods  at  dusk,  thrill 
one  like  the  mysterious  voice  of  a  disembodied  spirit. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

No  sweeter  note  gives  out  Apollo's  lyre, 
None  sweeter  gives  the  shell  his  brother  plays; 

This  gift  of  tawny  thrush  transcends  the  fire 

Of  any  mortal  soul  that  would  aspire 
To  sing — as  now  I  sing — the  Veery 's  praise. 

SELECTED. 

The  Wood  Notes  of  the  Veery 

The  moonbeams  over  Arno's  vale  in  silver  flood  were 
pouring, 

When  first  I  heard  the  nightingale  a  long-lost  love  deplor- 
ing, 

So  passionate,  so  full  of  pain,  it  sounded  strange  and  eerie; 

I  longed  to  hear  a  simpler  strain, — the  wood  notes  of  the 
veery. 

The  laverock  sings  a  bonny  lay  above  the  Scottish  heather, 
It  sprinkles  down  from  far  away  like  light  and  love  together; 
He  drops  the  golden  notes  to  greet  his  brooding  mate, 

his  dearie; 
I  only  know  one  song  more  sweet, — the  wood  notes  of  the 

veery. 

In  English  gardens,  green  and  bright  and  full  of  fruity 

treasure, 
I  heard  the  blackbird  with  delight  repeat  his  merry  measure; 

160 


Veery.     Wilson's  Thrush.     Tawny  Thrush 

The  ballad  was  a  pleasant  one,  the  tune   was    loud    and 

cheery, 
And  yet  with  every  setting  sun,  I  listened  for  the  veery. 

But  far  away,  and  far  away,  the  tawny  thrush  is  singing; 
New  England  woods,  at  close  of  day,  with  that  clear  chant 

are  ringing; 
And  when  my  light  of  life  is  low,  and  heart  and  flesh  are 

weary, 
I  fain  would  hear,  before  I  go,  the  wood  notes  of  the  veery. 

HENRY  VAN  DYKE. 


VIREO,  RED-EYED  "THE  PREACHER" 

The  easiest  way  to  identify  it,  until  it  sings,  is  by  the 
dark  stripe  through  the  eye,  which  is  not  found  in  the 
other  vireos,  while  at  short  range  and  in  good  light  the 
iris  has  a  reddish  tinge. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

Its  back  is  olive,  and  its  breast  white,  of  such  tints  that 
when  the  sunlight  is  on  the  leaves,  our  vireo  is  well  disguised, 
for  its  back  looks  like  the  upper  side  of  the  leaf,  and  its 
breast  like  the  under  side  with  the  sun  on  it. 

SELECTED. 

The  cowbird  carefully  attends  the  red-eyes,  and  deposits 
an  egg  in  the  nest;  and  the  one  ornithological  wonder  is 
that  the  bird  is  fool  enough  to  take  care  of  it.  This  it 

161 


Vireo,  Red-Eyed.     "The  Preacher" 

does  almost  always,  although  evidence  of  rebellion  is  not 
wanting. 

ABBOTT.     Birds  About  Us.27 

His  style  of  preaching  is  not  declamation.  Though 
constantly  talking,  he  takes  the  part  of  a  deliberative 
orator,  who  explains  his  subject  in  a  few  words  and  then 
makes  a  pause  for  his  hearers  to  reflect  upon  it.  We 
might  suppose  him  to  be  repeating  moderately,  with  a 
pause  after  each  sentence,  "You  see  it, — you  know  it,— 
do  you  hear  me? — do  you  believe  it?"  All  these  strains 
are  delivered  with  a  rising  inflection  at  the  close,  and 
with  a  pause,  as  if  waiting  for  an  answer. 

FLAGG.    A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 

His  song  is  a  monotonous  but  cheerful  monologue  made 
up  of  short  broken  sentences,  in  triplets,  given  as  he  hunts 
over  the  branches  for  food.  "  Where's  a  worm?  Where's 
a  caterpillar?  Where's  a  worm?"  he  queries  as  he  goes, 
answering  his  own  question  very  comfortably  to  himself. 
There  is  nothing  ecstatic  about  his  song.  It  seems  merely 
the  accompaniment  of  his  occupation.  He  sings  as  a 
contented  man  whistles  at  his  work. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

Rain  or  shine,  before  noon  or  after,  in  the  deep  forest 
or  in  the  village  grove, — when  it  is  too  hot  for  the  thrushes 
or  too  cold  and  windy  for  the  warblers, — it  is  never  out 
of  tune  or  place  for  this  little  minstrel  to  indulge  his  cheer- 
ful strain. 

BURROUGHS.    Wake  Robin.6 


162 


Vireo,  Red-Eyed.     "The  Preacher" 

What  are  the  materials  of  this  basket  hanging  here  in 
the  fork  of  the  maple!  Let  us  unravel  it.  .  .  .  Here 
are  strips  of  white  and  yellow  birch  bark,  aster  calyxes, 
cobwebs,  a  blue-bottle  fly,  spider-egg  silk  tufts,  slender 
roots,  bits  of  pith,  skeletonized  leaves,  pine  needles,  old 
cocoons  of  the  tussock-moth,  grass,  caterpillar  hairs,  dande- 
lion seeds,  moss,  and  feathers.  A  broad  piece  of  mottled- 
gray  paper-like  substance  forms  the  outside  base  of  the 
nest.  We  might  have  been  certain  of  finding  this — a 
fragment  of  hornet's  nest,  one  of  the  favorite  fabrics  of 
all  the  vireos.  And  what  is  this  white  weather-beaten 
fragment  which  crops  out  beneath  it?  A  bit  of  newspaper! 
Further  unravelling  shows  a  number  of  similar  pieces. 
....  In  most  of  them  the  print  was  worn  and  illegible, 
and  in  others  so  fragmentary  as  to  be  without  sense.  But 

at  length  I  came  upon  the  sentiment the 

only  perfect  sentence  to  be  found  in  all  the  print — my 
" preacher's"  text — "have  in  view  the  will  of  God." 

GIBSON.     Sharp  Eyes.32 

No  other  ....  speaks  so  clearly  in  our  own  tongue 
or  seems  so  much  to  imply  a  listener.  "Verily,  verily: 
you  know  it:  you  see  it:  cheery  are  we":  we  cheer  you." 
Such  is  the  melodious  witness  that  seems  to  descend  from 
heaven  through  the  maple  tree  above  us.  "You  are 
weary:  we  see  it;  listen  to  me:  meekly:  cheery  are  we: 

O  why  is  it:  verily  verily: there  we  owe  it: 

believe  me:  'tis  real;  we  know  it:  Selah!" 

Mr.  Beecher  once  remarked  to  me.  .  .  .  "That  little 
fellow  has  found  a  land  of  plenty  up  there,  and  he  says 
grace  like  a  little  Christian  at  every  mouthful." 

GIBSON.     Starlight  and  Sunshine.33 

163 


Vireo,  Red-Eyed.     "The  Preacher" 

Upon  the  elm  tree  sprays 

The  vireo  rings  the  changes  sweet, 
During  the  trivial  summer  days, 

Striving  to  lift  our  thoughts  above  the  street. 

THOREATJ. 
VIREO,  WARBLING 

The  vireos,  who  live  on  measure-worms  and  similar 
morsels,  are  so  exclusively  devoted  to  foliage  that  they 
might  well  be  called  leaf -birds,  and  their  tints  harmonize 
strikingly  with  their  habits.  They  may  well  be  known  as 
"greenlets." 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  Through  an  Opera  Glass.2 

There  is  not  a  branch  of  any  village  maple,  no  drooping 
limb  of  any  church-yard  elm,  no  clustered  trees  upon 
the  common,  or  stately  rows  of  pines  about  our  houses, 
but  the  warbling  vireo  knows  full  well;  and  at  home  the 
moment  he  reaches  us,  he  goes  forthwith  upon  his  musical 
rounds,  and,  gentle  as  a  spirit  though  he  seems,  dealing 
death  to  the  insect  hordes  that  Nature  has  here,  too,  given 

a  home The  song  is  not  interrupted  and  out 

of  tune  like  the  red-eye's  song,  and  if  you  hear  both  . 
you  will  recognize  them,  the  one  as  troubled  water  flow- 
ing over  rocks,  the  other  the  quiet  ripple  of  the  meadow 
brooks. 

ABBOTT.     Birds  About  Us.27 

The  song  is  a  firm,  rich,  continuous  warble  with  a  singu- 
lar alto  undertone. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 


164 


Vireo,  Warbling 

Wilson  Flagg  represents  it  by  the  words,  "Brigadier, 
Brigadier,  Brigate,"  and  designates  the  bird  as  "The 
Brigadier. " 

The  nest  is  generally  pendulous  (with  generally  a  free  use 
of  moss),  and  ambitiously  and  securely  suspended  at 
great  elevations.  In  our  elms  I  have  seen  one  of  these 
airy  cradles  at  the  very  summit  of  one  of  the  most  gigantic, 
more  than  one  hundred  feet  from  the  ground. 

Nuttall's  Ornithology.26 


VIREO,  SOLITARY  or  BLUE-HEADED 

The  solitary  vireo  may  be  distinguished  from  other 
vireos  at  a  glance  by  its  bluish  head.  It  is  to  be  sought 
in  the  woodlands. 


M.  A.  WILLCOX.     Common  Land  Birds  of  New  England.29 

In  form  its  music  resembles  the  red-eye's  ....  and 
the  yellow-throat's.  It  has,  too,  ....  a  musical  chat- 
ter— suggestive  of  the  Baltimore  oriole's — and  a  pretty 
trilled  whistle.  Wood  bird  as  it  is,  it  will  sometimes 
permit  the  greatest  familiarities.  Two  birds  I  have  seen 
which  allowed  themselves  to  be  stroked  in  the  freest  manner 
while  sitting  on  the  eggs,  and  which  ate  from  my  hand 
as  readily  as  any  pet  canary. 

TORREY.     Chapman's  Handbook  of  Birds.21 

The  solitary  vireo  builds  a  pensile  nest  .  .  .  not  so 
high  from  the  ground  as  the  yellow-throated  vireo 's,  nor 

165 


Vireo,  Solitary  or  Blue-Headed 

so  exquisitely  finished,  but  still  a  beautiful  little  structure 
of  pine-needles,  plant-fibre,  dry  leaves,  and  twigs,  all 
lichen-lined  and  bound  and  rebound  with  coarse  spiders' 
webs. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.28 


VIREO,  YELLOW-THROATED 

This  is  undoubtedly  the  beauty  of  the  vireo  family. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

To  distinguish  it  from  both  the  warbling  and  the  red- 
eye, you  have  but  to  remember  the  yellow  on  its  breast 
and  its  two  strongly  marked  wing  bars. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

If  the  red-eye  is  a  soprano,  the  yellow-throat  is  a  con- 
tralto. He  sings  much  the  same  tune,  but  his  notes  are 
deeper  and  richer,  while  they  are  uttered  more  deliberately 
and  with  greater  expression.  .  .  .  "See  me;  I'm 
here;  where  are  you?"  he  calls,  and  at  intervals  repeats 
his  question  in  varying  forms.  Sometimes  he  astonishes 
us  by  an  intricate  liquid  trill. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 


They  [the  red-eye  and  the  yellow-throat],  sing  somewhat 
alike  and  yet  differently,  the  advantage  being  with  the 
yellow-throat,  .  .  .  .the  red-eye  .  .  .  saying,  "Do 

166 


Vireo,  Yellow-Throated 

you  hear  me?  Do  you  believe  it?7'  and  the  yellow-throat, 
away  up  in  the  tree-top  ....  "  Doubt  it?  'deed  I 
do!" 

ABBOTT.     Birdland  Echoes.28 


They  excel  all  their  relations  in  architectural  taste  and 
skill,  and  construct  a  beautiful  nest,  outwardly  ornamented 
with  lichens,  plant  down  and  caterpillar's  silk.  It  is 
altogether  one  of  the  prettiest  nests  to  be  found  among 
our  specimens  of  bird-architecture. 

MINOT.    Land  and  Game  Birds.20 


WARBLER,  BLACK  AND  WHITE.  BLACK  AND 
WHITE  CREEPER 

This  little  warbler  is  so  uniformly  striped  with  black 
and  white  that  beginners  often  dub  him  "the  little  zebra 
bird." 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 


Nine  times  out  of  ten  these  active  little  warblers  are 
mistaken  for  downy  woodpeckers,  not  because  of  their  color- 
ing alone  but  also  on  account  of  their  common  habit  of 
running  up  and  down  the  trunks  of  trees  and  on  the  under 
side  of  branches,  looking  for  insects. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 
167 


Warbler,  Black  and  White.     Black  and  White 
Creeper 

His  fine  strain  reminds  me  of  hair-wire.  It  is  unques- 
tionably the  finest  bird-song  to  be  heard.  Few  insect 
strains  will  compare  with  it  in  this  respect;  while  it  has 
none  of  the  harsh,  brassy  character  of  the  latter,  being 
very  delicate  and  tender. 

BURROUGHS.    Wake  Robin.5 

WARBLER,  BLACKBURNIAN 

In  one's  experience  of  warbler  life,  perhaps  he  touches 
high-water  mark  when  he  sees  for  the  first  time  a  perfect 
specimen  of  the  Blackburnian  warbler.  To  avoid  the 
appearance  of  exaggeration  I  must  refrain  from  adequately 
expressing  the  surprise  and  amazement  elicited  by  this 
glowing  coal  of  fire.  ...  It  might  properly  be  named 
the  conflagration  warbler. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

The   orange-throated   warbler   would   seem   to     be     his 

right  name,  his  characteristic  cognomen The 

burn  seems  appropriate  enough,  for  in  these  dark  ever- 
greens his  throat  and  breast  show  like  flame. 

BURROUGHS.     Wake  Robin.5 

The  redstart's  name  of  "candelita"  might  well  be  applied 
to  the  Blackburnian,  for  it  is  not  only  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  of  the  little  warbler  butterflies,  but  its  flaming 
orange-red  throat  might  easily  suggest  a  torch  in  the 
forest. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

168 


WARBLER,  BLACK-POLL 

The  black-poll  at  first  glance  suggests  the  black  and 
white  creeper;  but  instead  of  a  striped  head,  has  a  black 
cap. 

It  is  said  to  be  one  of  the  most  beneficial  of  warblers, 
fairly  gorging  itself  on  canker  worms. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

A  dainty  little  fellow,  .  .  .  .  he  is  almost  hidden  by 
the  dense  foliage  on  the  trees  by  the  time  he  returns  to 
us  at  the  very  end  of  spring.  ...  A  faint  "screep, 
screep"  like  "the  noise  made  by  striking  two  pebbles 
together/'  is  often  the  only  indication  of  the  black-poll's 
presence. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

The  song  of  the  black-poll  is  weak,  as  if  he  had  such 
a  cold  as  to  be  almost  inaudible. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

It  resembles  the  syllables,  tsi-tsi-tsi-tsi-tsi,  repeated  in 
a  nearly  unvarying  tone. 

MINOT.     Land  and  Game  Birds.20 


WARBLER,  BLACK-THROATED  BLUE 

For  a  restful  effect  in  pure  white,  blue  and  black,  nothing 
could  be  finer  than  the  " black-throated  blue,"  as  chaste 
and  elegant  as  one  could  imagine,  and  with  ample  compen- 
sation for  its  colder  tones  in  its  grace  of  pose  and  motion. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 


169 


Warbler,  Black-Throated  Blue 

It  treats  a  tree  as  a  staircase,  hopping  up  a  branch  at 
a  time,  often  stopping  on  the  landings  to  follow  the  limbs 
out  to  their  tips,  and  then,  instead  of  vaulting  into  the 
air  or  dropping  off  in  somersaults  as  do  many  of  its  acro- 
batic relatives,  stops  still,  turns  its  head  over  and  looks 
up  before  going  on  up  the  next  stair. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 


WARBLER,  BLACK-THROATED  GREEN 

This  is  one  of  the  most  welcome  birds  to  the  would-be 
ornithologist,  because  it  is  so  easily  recognized.  The 
black  inverted  V  of  its  under  parts  (A),  the  yellow  cheeks 
and  large  areas  of  white  on  the  tail,  are  unmistakable. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 


The  "black-throated  greens"  are,  to  me,  with  perhaps 
the  exception  of  the  pine  warblers,  the  most  attractive 
members  of  their  family,  on  account,  I  think,  of  their 
pleasing,  familiar,  and  oft-repeated  songs,  .  .  .  which 
form  so  fitting  an  accompaniment  to  the  whispering  of 
the  pines. 

MINOT.     Land  and  Game  Birds.20 


SONG: 


Trees,  trees,  murmuring  trees. — TORREY. 

BURROUGHS. 


Cheese,  cheese,  a  little  more  cheese. 
Sleep,  sleep,  pretty  one,  sleep. 

170 


WARBLER,  CHESTNUT-SIDED 

He  is  one  of  the  rarest  and  handsomest  of  the  warblers; 
his  white  breast  and  throat,  chestnut  sides,  and  yellow 

crown,    show    conspicuously A    characteristic 

attitude  of  the  male  .  .  .  .  is  a  slight  drooping  of  the 
wings,  and  tail  a  little  elevated,  which  gives  him  a  very 
smart  bantam-like  appearance. 

BURROUGHS.    Wake  Robin.5 

Like  the  redstart,  it  plumes  itself  on  the  fact  that  it 
does  not  need  to  rest.  It  is  always  on  the  lookout,  always 
moving  from  point  to  point,  as  if  animated  by  an  abiding 
faith  that  there  is  merit  in  motion,  even  should  nothing 
come  of  it. 

ABBOTT.     Birdland  Echoes.28 


WARBLER,    MAGNOLIA    or    BLACK    AND 
YELLOW 

His  beautiful  yellow  breast  is  adorned  with 
and  long  pendants  of  black." 

The  one  point  to  note,  though,  if  we  could  but  know  it 
beforehand,  is  the  white  on  the  middle  of  the  tail  feathers, 
as  most  warblers  wear  their  polka  dots  at  the  tips  of  their 
feathers. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

The  Magnolia  has  a  shrill  song,  more  than  usually  pro- 
tracted on  the  approach  of  wet  weather,  so  that  the  Indians 
bestow  upon  it  the  name  of  ram  bird. 

Nuttall's  Ornithology.26 
171 


WARBLER,    MYRTLE    or    YELLOW-RUMPED 

The  four  yellow  spots  on  crown,  lower  back,  and  sides 
are  its  distinguishing  marks;  and  in  the  autumn  these 
marks  have  dwindled  to  only  one,  that  on  the  lower  back 
or  rump. 

NELTJE  BLANCH  AN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

In  loose  companies  they  forage  in  old  fields  and  scrubby 
growths  among  the  bayberry  or  myrtle  bushes,  which 
bear  their  favorite  food  [whence  their  name]. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 

Yellow-rumped  warblers  are  in  place  wherever  you 
find  them,  and  are  as  much  at  ease  in  the  depth  of  the 
forest  as  about  our  garden  fences. 

ABBOTT.     Birdland  Echoes.28 


WARBLER,  NASHVILLE 

Its  discoverer  was  first  attracted  to  it  by  the  singular 
noise  which  it  made,  resembling  the  breaking  of  small 
dry  twigs,  or  the  striking  together  of  pebbles,  for  six  or 
seven  times  in  succession,  and  loud  enough  to  be  heard 
at  a  distance  of  thirty  or  forty  yards. 

Nuttall's  Ornithology.26 

Minot  compares  the  first  half  of  the  song  to  the  pene- 
trating notes  of  the  black  and  white  warbler,  and  the 
last  half  to  the  twitter  of  the  chipping  sparrow. 

172 


Warbler,  Nashville 

Though  he  has  no  marks,  it  is  after  all,  a  satisfaction 
to  know  that  some  warblers  are  plain.  .  .  .  His  head 
is  bluish  gray,  which  is  a  mercy,  for  that  is  unusual  in 
combination  with  the  olive  and  yellow  of  his  body. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 


WARBLER,  PARULA  or  BLUE  YELLOW- 
BACKED 

It  is  one  of  the  daintiest  of  the  family,  bound  literally 
in  blue  and  gold  and  white  and  hi  form  and  coloring  one 
could  hardly  imagine  anything  more  exquisite.  A  light 
ashy-blue  spreads  over  the  upper  part  of  the  body  and 
wings,  finely  sprinkled  with  gold  in  the  center  of  the  back, 
while  beneath  it  is  snow-white  except  for  the  yellow  and 
brownish  band  across  the  breast. 

PARKHURST.    The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

Years  ago  when  rambling  in  the  woods  ...  I  caught 
sight  of  a  bird  that  paused  a  moment  on  a  branch  above 
me,  the  like  of  which  I  had  never  before  seen  or  heard 
of.  It  was  probably  the  blue  yellow-backed  warbler, 
.  .  .  .  but  to  my  young  fancy  it  seemed  like  some  fairy 
bird,  so  curiously  marked  was  it,  and  so  new  and  unexpected. 
.  .  .  .  How  the  thought  of  it  clung  to  me  afterward! 
It  was  a  revelation.  It  was  the  first  intimation  I  had 
had  that  the  woods  we  know  so  well  held  birds  that  we 
know  not  at  all. 

BURROUGHS.    Wake  Robin.5 

173 


Warbler,  Parula  or  Blue  Yellow-Backed 

The  song  comes  to  me  from  amid  the  top  branches  of 
tall  trees, — birch  and  poplar.  It  is  an  attractive  song, 
though  it  has  little  theme — merely  a  rapid  trill  of  some 
twenty  sibilant  notes  delivered  with  a  rising  inflection; 
but  the  tones  are  sweet,  and  the  effect  is  pleasing.  The 
song  is  clearly  an  outburst  of  joyous  emotion. 

Nuttall's  Ornithology.26 

Hoffman  likens  the  song  to  the  winding  up  of  a  little 
watch. 

WARBLER,  PINE.    PINE  CREEPER 

Here  is  a  warbler,  let  it  be  recorded,  that  is  fittingly 

named,  for  it  is  a  denizen  of  pine  woods  only 

Its  song  recalls  that  of  the  junco  and  the  chippy. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

Whoever  has  found  it  in  its  summer  resorts  will  there- 
after always  associate  its  simple,  sweet,  and  drowsy  song 
with  the  smell  of  pines  in  a  sultry  day. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

They  have  always  seemed  to  me  quiet  and  rather  indo- 
lent, and  remarkably  attentive  to  their  dress.  I  have 
sometimes  seen  them  pause,  for  at  least  fifteen  minutes, 
to  smooth  their  feathers  or  to  rest,  every  minute  "  drawling 
out"  their  sweet  note  quite  mechanically.  At  other  times 
they  are  very  active,  and  it  is  then  impossible  to  keep 
sight  of  them  for  any  great  length  of  time. 

MINOT.     Land  and  Game  Birds.20 

174 


WARBLER,   YELLOW.    SUMMER  YELLOW- 
BIRD 

From  much  living  in  the  sunshine  through  countless 
generations,  its  feathers  have  finally  become  the  color  of 
sunshine  itself,  and  hi  disposition,  as  well,  it  is  nothing 
if  not  sunny  and  bright. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

The  little  warbler  sings  as  he  works,  and  his  song  seems 
the  natural  out-pouring  of  happiness  akin  to  the  opening 
of  leaves  and  flowers. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

It  is  amusing  to  watch  the  sagacity  of  this  little  bird 
in  disposing  of  the  eggs  of  the  vagrant  and  parasitic  cow- 
bird.  The  egg  ....  too  large  for  ejectment,  is  ingen- 
iously incarcerated  hi  the  bottom  of  the  nest,  and  a  new 
lining  placed  over  it,  so  that  it  is  never  hatched  to  prove 

the  dragon  of  the  brood I  have  heard  of  two 

instances  hi  which  three  of  the  yellowbird's  own  eggs 
were  covered  along  with  that  of  the  cowbird.  In  a  third, 
after  a  cowbird's  egg  had  been  thus  concealed,  a  second 
was  laid,  which  was  similarly  treated,  thus  finally  giving 
rise  to  a  three-storied  nest. 

Nuttall's  Ornithology.26 
SONG: 

"  Sweet-sweet-sweet-sweet-sweeter. " 

Yellow  Bird 

Yellow  bird,  where  did  you  learn  that  song, 
Perched  on  the  trellis  where  grape  vines  clamber, 
In  and  out  fluttering,  all  day  long, 
With  your  golden  breast  bedropped  with  amber? 

175 


YeUow  Bird 

Where  do  you  hide  such  a  store  of  delight, 
O  delicate  creature,  tiny  and  slender, 
Like  a  mellow  morning  sunbeam  bright 
And  overflowing  with  music  tender! 

You  never  learned  it  at  all,  the  song 
Springs  from  your  heart  in  rich  completeness, 
Beautiful,  blissful,  clear  and  strong, 
Steeped  in  the  summer's  ripest  sweetness. 

To  think  we  are  neighbors  of  yours !    How  fine ! 
Oh,  what  a  pleasure  to  watch  you  together, 
Bringing  your  fern-down  and  floss  to  reline 
The  nest  worn  thin  by  the  winter  weather! 

Send  up  your  full  notes  like  worshipful  prayers; 
Yellow  bird,  sing  while  the  summer's  before  you; 
Little  you  dream  that,  in  spite  of  their  cares 
Here's  a  whole  family,  proud  to  adore  you ! 

CELIA  THAXTER. 

WARBLER,  YELLOW  PALM.  YELLOW  RED- 
POLL 

»'  They  are  much  more  terrestrial  in  their  habits  than  any 
of  their  immediate  relations,  and  always  are  on  or  not 
very  far  from  the  ground. 

MINOT.     Land  and  Game  Birds.20 

He  has  the  same  nervous  peculiarity  which,  irrespective 
of  family,  seems  to  affect  some  birds,  and,  as  though  life 
were  a  matter  of  beating  time,  never  ceases  to  wag  his 

tail 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 

176 


Warbler,  Yellow  Palm.     Yellow  Red-Poll 

In  the  southern  states  the  bird  becomes  particularly 
neighborly,  and  is  said  to  enter  the  streets  and  gardens 
of  towns  with  a  chippy's  familiarity. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 


WHIP-POOR-WILL 

Its  habit,  in  common  with  the  nighthawk,  of  perching 
lengthwise  of  the  branch,  and  the  perfect  blending  of  the 
colors  of  its  plumage  with  the  bark  and  lichen  patches 
make  it  well-nigh  impossible  to  see  this  bird,  even  when 
there  is  no  object  to  intercept  the  vision. 

ADAPTED. 

The  whip-poor-will's  day  begins  when  the  sun  goes  down. 
Then  he  passes  out  into  bushy  fields  near  his  home,  and, 
flying  low,  catches  his  supper  on  the  wing. 

CHAPMAN.    Handbook  of  Birds.21 


The  Delaware  Indians  said  it  was  not  safe  to  plant 
corn  in  the  Delaware  valley  until  these  birds  had  arrived; 
after  that  there  would  be  no  frost. 

ABBOTT.     Birds  About  Us.27 

Where  deep  and  misty  shadows  float, 
In  forest  depths  is  heard  thy  note, 
Like  a  lost  spirit,  earth-bound  still, 
Art  thou,  mysterious  whip-poor-will. 

SELECTED. 

177 


WOODCOCK,  AMERICAN 

They  keep  secluded  in  the  woods  and  thickets  till  the 
approach  of  evening,  when  they  sally  forth  ....  in 
quest  of  worms  and  other  insects  on  which  they  feed. 
.  .  .  .  They  indicate  their  presence  in  all  directions  by 
the  marks  of  their  boring  bills.  .  .  .  The  sensibility 
possessed  by  the  extremity  of  the  bill  is  of  such  an  exquisite 
nature  that  they  are  enabled  to  collect  their  food  by  the 
mere  touch  without  using  their  eyes,  which  are  set  at 
such  a  distance  and  elevation  in  the  back  part  of  the  head 
as  to  give  the  bird  a  remarkable  aspect  of  stupidity. 

NuttalPs  Ornithology.26 

How  many  evenings  have  I  tempted  malaria  germs 
.  .  .  .  to  watch  the  woodcock  perform  his  strange  sky 
dance!  He  begins  on  the  ground  with  a  formal,  periodic 

peent,  peent It  is  repeated  several  times  before 

he  springs  from  the  ground  and  on  whistling  wings  sweeps 
out  on  the  first  loop  of  a  spiral  which  may  take  him  three 
hundred  feet  from  the  ground.  Faster  and  faster  he  goes, 
louder  and  shriller  sounds  his  wing-song;  then  after  a 
moment's  pause,  with  darting,  headlong  flight,  he  pitches 
in  zigzags  to  the  earth,  uttering  as  he  falls  a  clear,  twitter- 
ing whistle.  He  generally  returns  to  near  the  place  from 
which  he  arose,  and  the  peent  is  at  once  resumed  as  a 
preliminary  to  another  round  in  the  sky. 

CHAPMAN.     Handbook  of  Birds.21 

WOODPECKER,  DOWNY 

The  little  downy  woodpecker  is  everywhere.  There  is 
not  a  tree  too  small  for  it  to  consider,  and  when  trees 
fail  altogether,  it  will  climb  over  an  old  grape  arbor  and 
be  happy  in  so  artificial  a  surrounding. 

ABBOTT.     Birds  About  Us.27 

178 


Woodpecker,  Downy 

How  curious  and  exciting  the  blood-red  spot  on  its 
hind  head!  It  looks  as  if  it  had  a  black  cassock  open 
behind,  showing  a  white  under-garment  between  the 
shoulders  and  down  the  back. 

THOREAU.    Winter.15 

In  getting  a  living  after  their  peculiar  fashion,  the  wood- 
peckers have  flattened  their  bodies  for  so  many  generations 
that  it  has  become  chronic  in  their  physique,  giving  them 
a  high-shouldered,  long-waisted  appearance  that  is  far 
from  beautiful. 

PARKHURST.    The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

Seeing  the  birds  about  during  snow  storms,  we  wonder 
what  becomes  of  them  in  the  still  colder  nights,  but  the 

downy  takes  good  care  of  himself At  night  he 

is  comfortably  housed  in  a  hole,  which  he  digs  expressly 
for  that  purpose.  Always  .  .  .  so  far  as  my  experience 
goes,  he  places  the  entrance  to  his  burrow  so  as  to  face 
the  sunny  south. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

Like  other  woodpeckers,  in  the  spring  he  beats  a  rolling 
tattoo  on  a  resonant  limb,  sounding  a  reveille  which  is 
a  credit  to  so  small  a  drummer. 

CHAPMAN.    Handbook  of  Birds.21 


How  the  Woodpecker's  Crown  Became  Red 

The  woodpecker  was  of  great  service  to  Hiawatha  in  the 
great  struggle  between  that  brave  warrior  and  Pearl  Feather, 
the  great  magician,  who  sent  disease  and  pestilence  among 

179 


Woodpecker,  Downy 

the  people.  The  conflict  lasted  for  an  entire  day,  and,  at 
sunset,  Hiawatha,  wounded,  weary,  and  despondent,  paused 
to  rest  beneath  a  pine  tree.  Suddenly  a  woodpecker  called 
to  him  from  the  branches  overhead,  telling  him  to  aim  his 
arrows  at  the  roots  of  the  tuft  of  hair  upon  his  enemy's  head, 
that  being  his  only  vulnerable  point.  Hiawatha  acting 
upon  this  advice,  with  his  three  remaining  arrows  fatally 
wounded  his  mighty  foe. 

Then  the  grateful  Hiawatha  called  the  woodpecker  to 
him,  took  a  drop  of  the  great  Pearl  Feather's  blood  and 
stained  the  tuft  of  feathers  on  the  head  of  the  little  bird  as  a 
reward  for  his  service. 

"Even  to  this  day  he  wears  it, 

Wears  the  tuft  of  crimson  feathers, 

As  a  symbol  of  his  service. "  ADAPTED. 

WOODPECKER.  HAIRY 

It  derives  its  name  from  the  resemblance  of  some  of 
the  feathers  on  its  back  to  hairs. 

FLAGG.     A  Year  With  the  Birds.25 

The  hairy  woodpecker,  like  most  of  its  relatives,  is 
an  exceedingly  beneficial  and  useful  bird,  which  rids  our 
orchards  and  forests  of  innumerable  injurious  larvae,  like 
those  of  the  boring  beetles.  SELECTED 

As  the  best  of  us  can  speak  only  in  the  tongue  we  know, 
the  woodpeckers  announce  their  love  on  the  drum.  .  .  . 
When  playing  his  piano,  "the  louder  the  noise  produced  the 
more  satisfactory  it  appears  to  be  to  the  performer." 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

180 


WREN,  HOUSE 

Early  some  morning  ....  there  will  go  off  under 
your  window  that  most  delightful  of  all  alarm  clocks — 

the  tiny,  friendly  house  wren Like  some  little 

mountain  spring  that,  having  been  imprisoned  by  winter 
ice,  now  bubbles  up  in  the  spring  sunshine,  and  goes  rippling 
along  over  the  pebbles,  tumbling  over  itself  in  merry  cas- 
cades, so  this  little  wren's  song  bubbles,  ripples,  cascades 
in  a  miniature  torrent  of  ecstacy. 

NELTJE  BLANCHAN.     Bird  Neighbors.23 

The  intense  vitality  which  characterizes  the  life  of  birds 
finds  its  highest  expression  in  the  wrens.  Perpetual 
motion  alone  describes  the  activity  of  these  nervous, 
excitable  little  creatures.  Repose  seems  to  be  out  of  the 
question;  as  well  expect  to  catch  a  weasel  asleep  as  to 

find  a  wren  at  rest.  Tt.   ,  T  .r   22 

CHAPMAN.     Bird  Life. 

His  nest,  from  preference  near  the  house,  is  placed 
beneath  the  eaves  .  .  .  .  or  in  a  hollow  orchard  tree; 
also  in  the  deserted  cell  of  a  woodpecker,  and,  when  provided 
with  the  convenience,  in  a  wooden  box.  ...  He  will 
make  it  even  in  an  old  hat,  nailed  up,  and  perforated  with 
a  hole  for  entrance,  or  the  skull  of  an  ox  stuck  upon  a 
pole;  and  Audubon  saw  one  deposited  in  the  pocket  of 
a  broken-down  carriage  ....  According  to  Wilson,  an 
instance  once  occurred  where  a  nest  was  made  hi  the  sleeve 
of  a  mower's  coat,  which  was  hung  up  .  .  .  .  in  a  shed 

near  a  barn.  XT  , ,   ,,.    ~     .,,    ,        26 

NuttalPs  Ornithology. 

It  is  well-known  that  the  male  wren  frequently  builds 
what  are  called  "cock  nests."  It  is  simply  so  full  of  life 

181 


Wren,  House 

and  'joy  and  of  the  propagating  instinct,  that,  after  the 
real  nest  is  completed,  and  while  the  eggs  are  being  laid, 
it  gives  vent  to  itself  in  constructing  these  sham  or  cock 
nests.  .  .  .  The  gushing  ecstatic  nature  of  the  bird 
expresses  itself  in  this  way.  BURROUGHS.  Riverby.11 

WREN,  WINTER 

The  tail  of  the  winter  wren  is  comically  short,  and 
standing  quite  erect  gives  the  little  creature  a  peculiarly 
pert  and  saucy  air,  which  seemed  to  Shakespeare  so  salient 
a  feature  when  he  alluded  to 

"The  wren  with  little  quill." 

It  is  a  specimen  of  highly  concentrated  nervous  energy, 
bottled  almost  to  bursting,  explosively  relieved  in  action 
and  song — a  bit  of  champagne  with  wings. 

PARKHURST.     The  Birds'  Calendar.31 

It  is  such  a  friendly,  jolly  little  bird  that  you  are  won 
by  its  confidence;  but  when  you  come  to  hear  it  sing, 
you  are  stirred  by  deeper  emotions.  The  song  is  a  marvel 
from  such  a  little  bird. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.     Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

His  song  unites  in  a  remarkable  degree  brilliancy  and 
plaintiveness.  I  think  of  a  tremulous  vibrating  tongue  of 

silver He  is  the   least  ostentatious  singer  I 

know  of.  He  does  not  strike  an  attitude,  and  lift  up  his 
head  in  preparation,  and,  as  it  were,  clear  his  throat: 
but  sits  there  on  a  log  and  pours  out  his  music,  looking 
straight  before  him,  or  even  down  at  the  ground.  As  a 
songster,  he  has  but  few  superiors. 

BURROUGHS.    Wake  Robin.5 

182 


YELLOW-THROAT,  MARYLAND 

Many  a  long  year  ago  ....  I  asked  about  this  little 
bird,  and  was  told  that  it  was  the  "black-checked  wren/' 
and  for  years,  until  Audubon's  seven  volumes  came  to 
hand,  I  called  it  such.  It  is  quite  as  good  a  name  as  the 
one  given  in  the  books. 

Why  "  Mary  land"  should  be  tacked  on  to  the  popular 
name  is  not  evident.  ABBOTT.  Birdland  Echoes.28 

The  bright  eyes  of  the  male  masquerader  shine  through 
his  black  mask,  where  he  intently  watches  you  from  the 
tangle  of  syringa  and  snowball  bushes;  and  as  he  flies 
into  the  laburnum  ....  you  are  so  impressed  with 
his  grace  and  elegance  that  you  follow  too  audaciously, 
he  thinks,  and  off  he  goes.  And  yet  this  is  a  bird  that 
seems  to  delight  in  being  pursued.  It  never  goes  so  far 
away  that  you  are  not  tempted  to  follow  it  ....  and 
it  always  gives  you  just  glimpse  enough  of  its  beauties 
and  graces  before  it  flies  ahead,  to  invite  the  hope  of  a 
closer  inspection  next  time. 

BLANCH  AN.    Bird  Neighbors.23 

In  domestic  relations,  few  birds  are  more  affectionate. 
The  male  carries  food  most  assiduously  to  his  mate  at 
the  nest,  caressing  her,  singing  for  her  diversion,  and 
guarding  her  from  disturbance. 

FLORENCE  A.  MERRIAM.    Birds  of  Village  and  Field.1 

I  have  found  several  nests  in  skunk-cabbage  plants, 
and  still  wonder  if  they  were  placed  there  for  protection, 
for  probably  no  animal  is  disposed  to  touch  the  plant  if 
it  can  avoid  it;  but  what  of  the  sense  of  smell  in  the  birds? 

ABBOTT.    Birds  About  Us.27 

183 


Yellow-Throat,  Maryland 

In  August  they  add  a  flight  song  to  their  repertoire. 
This  is  usually  uttered  toward  evening,  when  the  bird 
springs  several  feet  into  the  air,  hovers  for  a  second,  and 
then  drops  back  to  the  bushes. 

CHAPMAN.    Handbook  of  Birds.21 

The  ordinary  song  is  said  to  vary  greatly  with  locality, 
which  may  account  for  the  quite  different  descriptions 
given. 

Which  way,  sir?    Which  way,  sir?  BUKROUGHS. 

"Wichity,  wichity,  wichity. " 

I  beseech  you,  I  beseech  you,  I  beseech  you.  CHAPMAN. 

Where  did  you  get  it?    Where  did  you  get  it?    ABBOTT. 

I  see,  I  see  you,  I  see,  I  see  you,  I  see,  I  see  you.    FLAGG. 

Maryland  Yellow-Throat 

While  May  bedecks  the  naked  trees 
With  tassels  and  embroideries, 
And  many  blue-eyed  violets  beam 
Along  the  edges  of  the  stream, 
I  hear  a  voice  that  seems  to  say, 
Now  near  at  hand,  now  far  away, 
Witchery — witchery — witchery. 

An  incantation  so  serene, 
So  innocent  befits  the  scene : 
There's  magic  in  that  small  bird's  note — 
See — there  he  flits — the  Yellow-throat; 
A  living  sunbeam,  tipped  with  wings, 
A  spark  of  light  that  shines  and  sings 
Witchery — witchery — witchery. 


HENRY  VAN  DYKE. 
184 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

(The  figures  in  the  text  refer  to  corresponding  figures  in  this  list.) 

1.  BIRDS  OF  VILLAGE  AND  FIELD Florence  A.  Merriam 

(Houghton-Miflain  &  Co.) 

2.  BIRDS  THROUGH  AN  OPERA  GLASS Florence  A.  Merriam 

(Houghton-Miflain  &  Co.) 

3.  FIRST  BOOK  OF  BIRDS Olive  Thome  Miller 

(Houghton-Miflain  &  Co.) 

4.  A  BIRD-LOVER  IN  THE  WEST Olive  Thome  Miller 

(Houghton-Miflain  &  Co.) 

5.  WAKE  ROBIN John  Burroughs 

(Houghton-Mifilin  &  Co.) 

6.  LOCUSTS  AND  WILD  HONEY John  Burroughs 

(Houghton-Miflain  &  Co.) 

7.  SIGNS  AND  SEASONS John  Burroughs 

(Houghton-Miflain  &  Co.) 

8.  WINTER  SUNSHINE John  Burroughs 

(Houghton-Miflain  &  Co.) 

9.  PEPACTON John  Burroughs 

(Houghton-Miflain  &  Co.) 

10.  BIRDS  AND  POETS John  Burroughs 

(Houghton-Miflain  &  Co.) 

11.  RIVERBY John  Burroughs 

(Houghton-Miflain  &  Co.) 

12.  SPRING Henry  D.  Thoreau 

(Houghton-Miflain  &  Co.) 

13.  SUMMER Henry  D.  Thoreau 

(Houghton-Miflain  &  Co.) 

14.  AUTUMN Henry  D.  Thoreau 

(Houghton-Miftlin  &  Co.) 

185 


15.  WINTER Henry  D.  Thoreau 

(Houghton-Mifflin  &  Co.) 

16.  WALDEN Henry  D.  Thoreau 

(Houghton-Mifflin  &  Co.) 

17.  EXCURSIONS Henry  D.  Thoreau 

(Houghton-Mifflin  &  Co.) 

18.  EVERY  DAY  BIRDS Bradford  Torrey 

(Houghton-Mifflin  &  Co.) 

19.  CHOCORUA'S  TENANTS Frank  Bolles 

(Houghton-Mifflin  &  Co.) 

20.  MINOT'S  LAND  AND  GAME  BIRDS William  Brewster 

(Houghton-Mifflin  &  Co.) 

21.  HANDBOOK  OF  BIRDS Frank  M.  Chapman 

(D.  Appleton  &  Co.) 

22.  BIRD  LIFE Frank  M.  Chapman 

(D.  Appleton  &  Co.) 

23.  BIRD  NEIGHBORS Neltje  Blanchan 

(Doubleday,  Page  &  Co.) 

24.  BIRDS  THAT  HUNT  AND  ARE  HUNTED Wilson  Flagg 

(Educational  Publishing  Co.) 

25.  A  YEAR  WITH  THE  BIRDS Wilson  Flagg 

(Educational  Publishing  Co.) 

26.  NUTTALL'S  ORNITHOLOGY Montague  Chamberlain 

(Little,  Brown  &  Co.) 

27.  BIRDS  ABOUT  Us Charles  Conrad  Abbott 

(J.  B.  Lippincott  Co.) 

28.  BIRDLAND  ECHOES Charles  Conrad  Abbott 

(J.  B.  Lippincott  Co.) 

29.  COMMON  LAND  BIRDS  OF  NEW  ENGLAND M.  A.  Willcox 

(Lothrop,  Lee  &  Shepard  Co.) 

30.  NEW  ENGLAND  BIRD  LIFE Stearns  and  Cowes 

(Lothrop,  Lee  &  Shepard  Co.) 

31.  THE  BIRDS'  CALENDAR H.  E.  Parkhurst 

(Chas.  Scribner's  Sons.) 

32.  SHARP  EYES Wm.  Hamilton  Gibson 

(Harper  &  Bros.) 

33.  STARLIGHT  AND  SUNSHINE .   Wm.  Hamilton  Gibson 

(Harper  &  Bros.) 

186 


INDEX  OF  BIRDS 


PAGE 

Bay-Winged  Bunting  140 

Bee-Martin  83 

Bittern  19 

Blackbird,  Crow  19 

Red-winged  22 

Rusty  23 

Black  and  White  Creeper  167 

Bluebird  24 

Bobolink  30 

Bob  White  112 

Bunting,  Snow  38 

Butcher  Bird  39 

Catbird  40 

Chat,  Yellow-breasted  46 

Cedar  Bird  46 

Cedar  Waxwing  46 

Chebec  48 

Chewink  48 

Chickadee  49 

Cowbird  54 

Creeper,  Brown  55 

Crossbill,  Red  56 

Crow,  American  58 

Cuckoo,  Black-billed  63 

Yellow-billed  63 

Ducks  65 

Eagle,  Bald  65 

Finch,  Purple  66 

Firebird  99 

Flicker  66 

Flycatcher,  Great-crested  67 

Olive-sided  69 


PAGE 

Flycatcher,  Least  48 

Geese,  Wild  69 

Goldfinch  70 

Grosbeak,  Pine  72 

Rose-breasted  73 

Gull,  American  Herring  74 

Hair-Bird  130 

Hang-Nest  99 

Hawks  74 

Herons  76 
Humming  Bird,  Ruby-throated  76 

Indigo  Bird  78 

Indigo  Bunting  78 

Jay,  Blue  79 

Junco  83 

Kingbird  83 

Kingfisher,  Belted  85 

Kinglet,  Golden-crowned  87 

Ruby-crowned  87 

Lark,  Horned  88 

Linnet,  Purple  66 

Red-poll  114 

Loon,  Black-throated  89 

Martin,  Purple  90 

Meadowlark  92 

Nighthawk  93 

Northern  Shrike  39 

Nuthatch,  White-breasted  96 

Red-breasted  98 

Oriole,  Baltimore  99 

Oven-Bird  102 

Owls  104 


187 


PAGE 

PAGE 

Partridge 

106 

Thrasher,  Brown 

152 

Peabody  Bird 

143 

Thrush,  Hermit 

155 

Ruffed  Grouse 

106 

Wilson's 

158 

Pewee,  Water 

110 

Brown 

152 

Wood 

108 

Tawny 

158 

Phoebe 

110 

Wood 

157 

Pine  Creeper 

174 

Titmouse,  Blacked-capped 

49 

Quail 

112 

Towhee 

48 

Redstart 

116 

Veery 

158 

Reed  Bird 

30 

Vireo,Red-eyed,"  The  Preacher 

"161 

Rice  Bird 

30 

Warbling 

164 

Robin,  American 

117 

Solitary  or  Blue-headed 

165 

English 

99 

Yellow-throated 

166 

Golden 

99 

Warbler,  Black  and  White 

167 

Ground 

48 

Blackburnian 

168 

Sand  Martin 

144 

Black-poll 

169 

Sandpiper,  spotted 

127 

Black-throated  Blue 

169 

Sapsucker,  Yellow-bellied 

130 

"       Green 

170 

Snowbird,  Slate-colored 

83 

Chestnut-sided 

171 

Snowflake 

38 

Magnolia  or  Black 

Sparrow,  Chipping 

130 

and  Yellow 

171 

Field 

131 

Myrtle  or  Yellow-rumped 

172 

Fox 

133 

Nashville 

172 

Grasshopper 

134 

Parula  or  Blue  yellow- 

Song 

135 

backed 

173 

Tree 

139 

Pine 

174 

Vesper 

140 

Yellow 

175 

White-crowned 

142 

Yellow  Palm 

176 

White-throated 

143 

Whip-poor-Will 

177 

Summer  Yellow  Bird 

175 

Wild  Canary 

70 

Swallow,  Bank 

144 

Woodcock,  American 

178 

Barn 

145 

Woodpecker,  Downy 

178 

Cliff  or  Eave 

148 

Hairy 

180 

Tree,  White-bellied 

149 

Golden-winged 

66 

Swift,  Chimney 

150 

Wren,  House 

181 

Tanager,  Scarlet 

152 

Winter 

182 

Thistle  Bird 

170 

Yellow-Throat,  Maryland 

183 

188 


INDEX  OF  AUTHORS 


Whose  names  are  not  included  in  the  numbered  list  on  the 
preceding  pages. 


PAGE 

Abbott,  Charles  C.  184 

Aldrich,  T.  B.  26 

Arnold,  Edwin  149 

Blanchan,  Neltje  25 

Brewer,  148 

Browning,  15 

Bryant,  36 

Bums,  17 

Burroughs,     John     21,  25,  63,  132, 

147,  170,  184 

Chapman,  Frank  M.      97,  128,  184 
Cranch,  C.  P.  33 

Emerson,    15,  21,  23,  26,  50,  66, 

136,  152,  158 

Fawcett,  Edgar  100 

Flagg,  Wilson  37,  184 

Foss,  Sam  Walter  14 

Gibson,  Wm.  H. 
Holland,  J.  G. 
Holmes, 

Hulbert,  Wm.  D. 
Larcom,  Lucy 


147,  158 

78,96 

33 

90 

72,  100,  122,  132, 


143,  147,  154 


PAGE 

Longfellow,  15,  57,  60 

Lowell,  21,  26,  32,  76,  101,  112 
Merriam,  Florence  A.  95,  97 

Miller,  Olive  Thome  72,  117 

Nuttall,  97 

Parkhurst,  H.  E.  95 

Rexford,  E.  E.  27,35 

Savage,  M.  J.  45 

Scollard,  Clinton  43,  60 

Seton,  Ernest  Thompson  139 

Sill,  George  I.  134 

Spofford,  Harriet  Prescott  25 

Stearns,  97 

Stedman,  E.  C.  119 

Thaxter,  Celia  60,  70,  124,  129,  175 
Thomas,  Edith  M.  98,  120,  142 
Thoreau,  25,  49,  97,  135, 136,  153, 

164 

Torrey,  Bradford  95,  170 

Trowbridge,  J.  T.  109 

Van  Dyke,Henry  128,  138,  160, 184 
Whittier,  121 

Wilson,  96 


189 


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